Architect of Fate
by OriginalAlcy
Summary: Victory over the Reapers was achieved only at a steep galactic and personal cost – billions are dead and the galaxy hovers on the verge of anarchy. Scarred and changed by her actions, Evan Shepard risks losing everything she loves in the brutal struggle for peace. The continuation of the ME universe created in Catalyst of Fate. FemShep/Liara; Ashley/Miranda.
1. Natural Born World-Shaker

A/N: I guess this is the place where I'm supposed to give a quick recap of the events of _Catalyst of Fate_. I'm just going to say that you should really read that one first. Although we've all played ME3 - yah de yah dah - I threw in a few non-canon elements that you might want to catch up on. I really don't want to spoil it for you...just hurry up and read it already ;-)

For those of you who are re-joining the_ Fate_ party-train, a very huge welcome to the continuing story. AoF pretty much kicks off from where I left things at the end of _Catalyst_ and continues on from there. I haven't suddenly had a brain transplant, so expect more of the same - three parts angst, two parts action, one part humour, a dash of character death on the side and more than enough femslash to sink a battleship.

* * *

**Chapter One**  
**Natural Born World-Shaker**

_By the Goddess. _The asari invocation was an involuntary reaction. Other than 'holy fuck,' they were the only words that she could find to explain the myriad of emotions playing havoc with her fragile state of being upon seeing Liara. Slowly but surely an amazing warmth spread throughout her entire body. She tried to grin but found even that simple gesture was too taxing to sustain for more than a few seconds. _Did we actually do it?_

Liara was curled up in a chair positioned near the bed. It hardly seemed like a comfortable position to sleep in, but somehow she'd managed it. Her face was pressed against the headrest, and a blanket was tucked so securely around her body that someone else had to have done it for her. From her limited vantage point, Shepard hungrily examined her bondmate with her eyes – desperately trying to confirm that she was unscathed. There were no wounds that she could see. The pigment alterations on her forehead and crest were still present - a remnant of Isini Aegir's madness. There were deep shadows around her eyes, but she otherwise appeared in excellent health. Her cheeks looked almost…rosy.

Shepard couldn't say the same for herself. Despite struggling intently for almost a minute, her efforts resulted only in her head lifting from the pillow. That small movement was enough to confirm that she really was as weak as she felt. She recalled feeling a similar helplessness once before - when she had woken on Lazarus Station to the sound of klaxons blaring and Miranda Lawson shouting at her. _Don't tell me I fucking died again._

With that uncomfortable thought foremost in her mind, Shepard did her best to ascertain whether she was still in one piece. When she lifted her head, she could see nothing of her body beneath the light bedclothes that covered her. It felt as though she was in one piece. _Fingers…check._ With a slight grunt of satisfaction, Shepard realised that she could wriggle her toes. Her attempt to ascertain whether she still had all of her limbs had been successful. There were two arms and two legs, exactly where they should be. It was at that point that she looked across and saw that Liara was awake and staring at her. As she watched, the asari's mouth parted slightly in astonishment.

"You…okay?" The words emerged as a rasping croak. She sounded as though she had not used her voice for some time. "...look tired."

Liara suddenly sat up. The blanket slipped down slightly as she reached forward to take Shepard's left hand in her own. The simple contact sent a jolt through Shepard's body, eliminating any last suspicions that she was dreaming. However when she tried to squeeze Liara's hand, she could only apply a slightly pressure.

"Goddess, Evan. It is me who should be asking you that question," Liara whispered breathlessly.

"Did I…die?" Shepard asked hesitantly.

"Oh!" Liara shook her head. "No-" She bit her lip, unsure of herself before she continued. "You were…missing."

Although her face ached slightly, Shepard was pleased that she could manage a frown. A gnawing disquiet was growing in her stomach. "How long?"

The pressure of Liara's grip on her hand increased. "Six months," she eventually answered.

Shepard's eyes widened. "Six…" With a grunt of effort, she struggled to try and lift her body from the bed. The dull ache increased until it radiated throughout her body in sharp stabbing pains. She had to give up and slump helplessly against the pillows. Liara had thought she was dead for six months. "Li-" she whispered brokenly.

Tears were welling beneath Liara's eyes and she shook her head. "Forgive me, Shepard. I promise I will explain everything that happened, but I do not want to talk about it now, not in this moment." Despite the fact that she was crying openly, a light laugh bubbled on her lips. It lasted for only a few moments but it was enough to help Shepard find acceptance in the unknown. "I want to hold onto this wonderful feeling for as long as I can."

"Hey," Shepard said quietly, sensing Liara's distress. Her trembling fingers were finally able to stroke Liara's hand. "Take as long as you need, I don't think I'm going anywhere." As she became reacquainted with speaking, it became easier. "One question though, then I'll shut up. Are the fucking Reapers dead?"

Liara nodded quickly. "Thanks to The Shepard."

"What do you mean _The_ Shepard?" _I think there's something to be said for being a martyr as opposed to a hero of the living sort. _"They can't possibly be trying to pin all of this on me. I had a shit load of help!" Shepard protested. Her eyes widened. "I know I promised no more questions-"

"Evan…you must remain calm." Liara scooted the chair a little closer to the bed. She was able to reach out and stroke the side of her bondmate's face. "They're all fine – the Normandy, Garrus, Tali, Samantha…even Javik, the grumpy bastard. Joker, EDI, Miranda and Ash…all fine."

"Thank the Goddess," Shepard whispered. She leaned into Liara's touch and breathed a sigh of relief that her companions had come through unscathed. She had not led more good people to their deaths.

"Your Mother was here yesterday," Liara added.

Shepard remembered the almost familial conversation they had shared on the Glasgow's CIC. For all their differences, she was relieved to hear that Hannah Shepard was alive. "Please tell me she was nice to..." The last part tapered off as she yawned widely. Merely keeping her eyes open was an exercise in determination.

"Of course she was." Liara nodded. "Although I think it came as something of a shock to find me in my present condition-"

Another yawn escaped Shepard's lips, cutting Liara's sentence short. "I'm so sorry," she said in exasperation. She desperately wanted to stay awake but her eyelids had other plans. They kept trying to droop down over her eyes when all she wanted to do was stare at Liara.

"Rest," Liara whispered. She stood, letting the blanket fall away from her body as she did. Her back was aching and she stretched for a moment. Shepard's eyes were still closed when she leaned over to deposit a soft kiss on her unblemished forehead. The Commander responded with a drowsy smile. "You're going to need all your strength for the next challenge," Liara added in a tender, hopeful voice.

"Challenge? I'm going to tell the Alliance to go to hell," Shepard replied, her head lolling on the pillow. "Someone else can rid the galaxy of ancient alien evil for a change. I'm taking a...long holiday."

Liara laughed nervously. "There is no ancient evil – just fatherhood."

"Fatherhood?" Shepard mumbled. Her eyes jerked open and went wide when she saw that Liara was standing in front of her. Her bondmate wore a traditional asari dress that clung to every curve of her body – including the gentle swelling of her belly. "You mean…little blue children?" Shepard asked incredulously. Although her entire body protested at the sudden movement, she propped herself up on her elbows and stared at Liara with wide, almost childlike eyes. Her gaze lingered over Liara like a caress. "Our little blue children?"

"Child," Liara corrected gently. "But yes, Evan. You're going to be a father..."

The first inkling Shepard had that something was wrong was when she saw something odd on the wall just behind Liara. The fabric of the wall was warped and shifting – almost as though there was a glitch in the very fabric that made up the solid mass. _No, this isn't a dream, she tried to tell herself. It's not-_

"Liara?" Her voice was thin...pleading.

She focused on her bondmate. The overwhelming happiness Shepard felt was suddenly replaced by an icy, cold chill throughout her body as Liara's gorgeous features twisted and melted from her face. When she tried to extend her hand, unseen hands clawed at her and dragged her downwards. Shepard fought. She tried desperately to cling to the dream, but the harder she tried the faster it slipped through her fingers...

* * *

**London, Earth**

The last time David Codrington had held a naked woman in his arms, the Reaper War had been nothing more than empty scare-mongering. It had been a lazy afternoon with Amanda at their home in Surbiton. The kids had been packed off to Amanda's parents in Dorset for the bank holiday weekend and he had nothing more important to do than make love to his wife and decide what kind of take-out they would have for dinner. He was looking forward to watching the Gunners play in what was sure to be a heated London Derby the following day. The match had never been played and that afternoon now seemed nothing more than a dream he'd once had.

Codrington had since lived through every minute of the hell that had eventually descended on them. He was no soldier, but he'd struggled alongside those who were. While he was only ever a fair shot with a rifle, his engineering skills had been called upon throughout the war. Despite his efforts, the Reapers had taken everything from him. Amanda and their three kids, Andrew, Jill, and Max, had been killed in a single, devastating attack on the Dorchester survivor compound. All he had left was his own life. As meagre and it was, it was a life that Commander Shepard had saved.

"Christ!" Hardy whispered beside him, still rubbing his thumb over the dog tags he held in his hand. "She's supposed to be dead ain't she, Dave?" Shocked beyond belief, Hardy fell back onto his haunches and just sat there staring at the limp body that Codrington held. "Never saw it meself, but they say the Crucible went up like the flamin' Fifth of November."

"Well she's obviously not dead," Codrington replied. Although he regarded himself as a level-headed guy, he was at a loss as to the best course of action. A few seconds later, he was startled speechless when Shepard's eyelids fluttered open. Beyond the pale blue gaze, Codrington saw no trace of awareness initially. She blinked slowly several times. When the fog cleared, he thought he saw her frown in confusion. He found a quiet voice. "Commander? Commander Shepard?"

Her pale lips started to move ever so slightly. They jerked up and down as though she was struggling to make them work properly in order to form words. Eventually a thin whisper emerged, but the faint sound meant little to him. Codrington lowered his ear closer to her mouth in an effort to hear what she was saying.

The hoarse whisper barely carried even the short distance, but he could just distinguish the syllables. "Li…ara…T-" Codrington could sense the palpable desperation in her voice. "T'Soni. Li-"

Suddenly her eyes rolled back into her head. Her previously limp body stiffened and started to spasm uncontrollably. A series of awful gasping sounds escaped her mouth as she apparently struggled to draw a breath.

"Shit!" Hardy shrieked. "What the 'ell do we do?"

"Remain where you are, Mr Hardy." Codrington was still cradling Shepard's shaking body when he heard the unfamiliar voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see the Alliance captain, Prowse, bringing up his omni-tool. "This is Captain Prowse of the four-oh-second, I've got a situation at my coordinates. Send immediate back-up and medical evac…and I mean fucking immediate!"

Prowse dropped to his knees beside Codrington. His military first aid training recognised the symptoms of severe shock. "Give her some space!" he snapped urgently. "Get your medic in here stat and clear the rest of your people the hell out of here."

Codrington reluctantly lowered Shepard onto the packed dirt of the tunnel floor. Although the tremors had subsided somewhat, she was even paler and breathing in short, sharp gasps. When he hauled himself to his feet, he found his legs barely able to support his weight.

"And, Dave?" Prowse gave him a hard stare. "It would be in your best interests not to breathe a world of this to anyone. That applies to you and your pal there."

"But it's _Shepard_," Codrington pointed out in disbelief. "People will want to know!"

"Not a goddamn word, or you'll wish you had been Reaper fodder," Prowse replied in a strange tone.

Codrington merely nodded as he backed away from Prowse. Although the Captain had seemed normal enough during their brief initial interaction, he now found him to be intimidating. He did not doubt for one second that Prowse would draw the pistol her carried and shoot him if he refused to move. He cast one last, desperate glance down at Shepard. By now her skin had taken on a bluish tinge even as she continued to struggle for breath. Her black hair fanned out around her in the mud and the crystalline fingers of her left hand clawed at the mud beneath her.

"Hold in there, Commander Shepard," he whispered. "Earth isn't done with you yet."

* * *

**MSV _Steinbeck_**

Commander Ashley Williams arrived at semi-consciousness with the acidic taste of vomit in her mouth and the sensation that she was being dragged. For a few moments she was only dimly aware of her own body, however eventually her splitting headache soon made itself known. The vomit taste was joined by smoke when she tried to draw a deep breath. She coughed violently and discovered that other parts of her body hurt as well. Her eyes opened slowly – at first she saw nothing but the smoke. With full consciousness returning, Ashley realised that she _was_ being dragged. Strong hands gripped beneath each of her armpits, hauling her roughly across a deck.

_The Steinbeck_. Ashley tried to remember what the hell they had been doing on board the ship, but the only images in her mind were of naked, mutilated bodies. Entrails hung from their corpses like some sort of grotesque funerary arrangement. She desperately wanted to vomit again but she was too busy coughing and trying to breathe. When she tried to move her limbs, all she could manage were several weak spasms.

"Hang on…we're almost there, Ash."

_That's Garrus._ It was Garrus who was dragging her. Some of her fear dissipated, but at the same time she saw a pair of pale eyes tinged with green. Something had been taunting her in the moments before she had lost consciousness. She could not remember who or what it was.

"Move faster!"

The urgent voice was Tali's. The quarian was somewhere up ahead of them. Ashley detected fear and strain in her voice, much as she had with Garrus's a few seconds earlier. Whatever the situation, it was bad. Ashley tried to remind herself that she was the commander of the _Normandy,_ and that she should be the one on her feet dragging crewmembers out of harm's way. Instead she was just a limp sack of meat, her armour steadily grinding on the metal of the _Steinbeck_'s deck.

There had been a child. Ashley distinctly remembered the long blonde hair flowing and the fear that had subsequently gripped her entire body. Everyone else on the freighter had been brutally murdered; there was no way in hell she was leaving the little girl to die. As her memories returned with some clarity, she remembered her desperate struggles to move the crate aside so she could grab the kid.

It wasn't even a fucking kid. The pale green eyes that lingered behind Ashley's eyeballs had belonged to a V.I. In some fucked up pantomime, the thing had started laughing at her. Ashley remembered the disgust that had gripped her body as she realised that the _MSV Steinbeck_ was about to go nova and take her sorry carcass with it. It had been accompanied by the sharp stab of pain that came with the knowledge that she would not see Miranda again – not even to harangue her for not bothering to get in touch. Not to mention the fact that she'd ordered Garrus and Tali to leave her the hell behind.

"What the hell, Garrus?" Ashley choked. It was difficult for a limp sack of meat to sound authoritative. "I ordered you-"

"With all due respect, ma'am," Garrus replied.

It was all he needed to say. He'd taken a leaf out of Ashley's own damn book and thrown it in her face. Somewhere she heard EDI's voice locked into some sort of countdown. Ashley wished the A.I would shut the hell up. During her time in command of the Normandy, Ashley had come to appreciate EDI as something _more_ than an A.I. She usually recognised the subtle, almost imperceptible nuances, in her voice - especially when she was referring to the loss of her mobile platform. It had been destroyed by a Brute during the Battle for Earth. Even though her program lived on within the Normandy, EDI had effectively given her life to save Sam Traynor. However as she counted down – probably toward their imminent deaths – she had never sounded so artificial and cold.

Garrus suddenly hauled her to her feet so he could lift her over the airlock seal that kept the Normandy locked in a death-grip with the _Steinbeck._ Ashley pushed out feebly with her feet and managed to gain some sort of traction. With EDI's countdown ringing in their ears, the three of them made the last awkward, desperate scramble for the airlock. All were only too aware that making it off the ship before it blew was only half the challenge. They also needed time for the Normandy to get clear, else they, the crew and the ship would in all likelihood be torn apart as the _Steinbeck_'s fusion plant went nova.

_Getting your first command blown to hell? Not going to look good on your service record, Williams._ She was already having a bad day, it sure as hell didn't need to get any worse.

As soon as the away team was safely in the airlock, Tali slammed her fist against the controls to seal the Normandy behind them.

"Joker, get us the hell out of here!" Garrus barked as he lowered Ash gently to the deck. "Doc, we need you in the CIC stat!"

Although Ashley appreciated the sentiment, she felt fine. Even as Garrus hovered over her, she managed to shake her head stubbornly.

"You're going to be fine, Commander," he reassured her.

"I know," Ashley growled in response. "And I'm going to kick your spiny butt for disobeying a direct order."

The lack of clarity she had felt on the _Steinbeck_ was largely gone. The headache was still there, pounding between her ears like an assault rifle firing with a dirty barrel, but she could deal with it. It was just pain. What she couldn't deal with were her perceived failures as commander of the _Normandy_. The same thought was constantly running through her mind – what would Shepard have done?

She felt the distinct shudder throughout the superstructure of the _Normandy_ as the inertial dampeners failed to compensate fully for the freighter's explosion. Her heartbeat stopped for a few moments as the entire ship groaned against the external forces trying to tear it to pieces.

* * *

**SSV_ Normandy_ SR-2**

_{Hey, Commander, the next time you feel like giving me a challenge why don't you see how many hard-boiled eggs I can eat?} _Joker's annoyed voice sounded over the comm. {_Just a suggestion, you know, instead of giving me ten seconds to make minimum safe distance from an exploding ship.}_

Ashley did not dignify Joker's blithe comment with a reply, otherwise the pilot would have been on the receiving end of a string of expletives more reminiscent of a drunken Terminus merc than a naval commander. Nevertheless she was extremely pissed - both at the whole unpleasant incident with the _Steinbeck_ and herself. She had barely waited for Chakwas to give her the all clear before making her way down to the armoury to divest herself of her kit. Garrus and Tali followed closely. Despite the Doc's assessment of her physical condition, neither was convinced she was fine.

"Tali, I want a full report on the contents of the _Steinbeck's_ logs – any transcripts, diagnostics, anything that looks remotely out of the ordinary, and I want it goddamn yesterday!" Ashley barked at the startled quarian.

She practically launched her Valkyrie at the weapons bench. The rifle skidded and teetered on the brink of falling to the deck. A gentle nudge from Garrus ensured that it did not fall, but the action also reminded Ashley how close to losing it she was. A marine did not throw her weapons, regardless of how pissed they were.

Ashley lowered her gaze. "Who the hell makes a VI of a goddamn kid like that?" she asked no one in particular. "It's almost as though they wanted to take out any ship responding to the distress signal."

"Who would have the motives for such an attack?" Garrus asked in disbelief. "Now...when so many are preoccupied with just staying alive? If only we could send the information on Tali's omni-tool to Liara,"

Ashley agreed but did not voice her thoughts. Unfortunately traffic between the Normandy and the Shadow Broker had been strictly one way for the past five months. Intel appeared sporadically in her personal inbox, never from the same origin and never any overt indication that it was even Liara. For all intents and purposes, Liara had disappeared from their lives.

"Well that's not going to happen is it," Ashley remarked more coldly than she had intended. As difficult as it was, she pushed the absent asari from the forefront of her mind. "Get on it, Tali."

"Aye-aye, ma'am," Tali replied quickly.

Tali cast a quick glance towards Garrus, who responded with a reassuring nod. Ashley caught the movements out of the corner of her eye. She knew exactly what to expect when the Turian approached her quietly. Instead of waiting for him to speak, she held up a curt hand to indicate that she was not interested. She wasn't interested in personal reflection or a heart-to-heart, the only two things she wanted on her mind were a scalding hot shower and a glass of brandy – straight up, without a single goddamn rock.

_{Commander Williams.}_ Ashley's entire body stiffened with dread and frustration. It was Traynor. _{There's an urgent encrypted communication for you via QEC.}_

"Liara?" Ashley asked hopefully as she halted the elevator. It was only now that the asari was on her mind that she realised how much they all needed her.

_{No, the message has an Alliance signature,}_ Traynor replied.

_Great, probably Admiral Hackett_, Ashley growled inwardly._ Do I have to tell him I almost fried the Normandy?_

However the image that manifested within the QEC a few minutes later was not the grizzled visage of Admiral Steven Hackett. Only a few minutes ago Ashley had felt hollow and numb, now the entirety of her being came alive within seconds. Her body responded predictably – at the same time her eyes widened in surprise, her skin bristled with nervous energy, and her core descended rapidly into the fierce throb of repressed sexual desire. Her emotional response however descended into a tangled gamut – from relief to anger. The slightly grainy image of Miranda Lawson stood in the centre of the QEC. Gone were the days of skin-tight cat-suits and waves of hair settling down around her shoulders. She was wearing an Alliance uniform, her hair was bound back into a lose ponytail and she looked almost as exhausted as Ashley felt.

Thankfully the mottled bruising across Ashley's face would not show up on the corresponding image that Miranda was seeing. She did not think that she could withstand Miranda's own particular brand of concern. Mostly it involved berating her for being clumsy enough to get wounded in the first place.

"How the hell did you get access to the QEC?" Ashley demanded. "And don't tell me you have permission either, because I can tell by that smug expression on your face that you don't."

Miranda's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. Her expression shifted to an indulgent smile. "It turns out that the comms officer in charge of the watch is a very lonely man."

Ashley scrubbed hard at her forehead with the pads of her fingers. "I don't have time for this, M."

"Come on, give me a little credit here, Ash. I have a five minute window and I'll scrub the logs when I'm done." Ashley was about to interrupt when Miranda held up a curt hand. "Before you go giving me a lecture on why I can't operate how I damn well please in this chicken shit outfit, hear me out. I miss you…and I need to apologise for trying to make another excuse to get out of meeting your sisters. I have a week's leave between passing out of OCS and my first posting…maybe we can arrange a get together then?" Her tone shifted as she spoke, from defensive to hopeful as she finished and searched her lover's face for a reaction.

Ashley did not give anything away in response. "You're treading on thin ice calling the Alliance a chicken shit outfit."

"Seriously?" Miranda replied stormily. "I've made a meal out of every single one of the instructors on the fucking base. The muscle bound meat-head who took one look at me and thought he could throw me to the canvas - broken nose. They've got officers trying to teach combat tactics who wouldn't know how to make use of a biotic Sentinel if their lives depended on it. I lie awake at night in one of those ghastly bunk beds and realise that there's nothing they can teach me."

"Humility?" Ashley offered.

Miranda's expression softened at her lover's quiet tone. She folded her arms over her chest defensively. "Not exactly an easy lesson for yours truly."

Shaking her head, Ashley felt her anger dissipate. "I know I've said all of this before but you don't have a bloody thing to prove to anyone – least of all to the Alliance...and certainly not to me." She knew she was retreading well-worn ground. They'd fought for a solid three days about Miranda's decision to enlist. Granted she'd been immediately accepted into the Officer Candidate programme, but Ashley - the consummate soldier – did not believe that her lover was suited to a career built around discipline and following orders.

"I'm not at school with kids almost two decades younger than me to prove something to the Alliance...I have something to prove to myself," Miranda replied evenly. "All my life I've been set apart...and different. What if I don't to be that woman anymore?"

Ashley almost snorted disparagingly before she caught herself. "That's the whole point, your talents...your gifts-"

"Count for absolutely nothing if I don't have the resources to use them," Miranda interrupted. "After the hell we've been through I want to give us every chance at living a real life. We can't do that if the Galaxy is falling to pieces around us. Are we seriously going to do this again, because I'd rather not waste this time rehashing arguments we've already had? So...your sisters?"

Ashley managed a small smile when she thought of the dozens of messages that had flooded her inbox when the Williams' sisters learned that her love life had taken a major detour. The initial disbelief had soon given way to incessant and somewhat intrusive questioning."I'll get in touch with the girls and set something up. Their curiosity is already through the roof."

"I'm looking forward to it." The tone in Miranda's voice clearly indicated that was not entirely true. She studied her lover's expression. "You look tired."

Ashley did not say anything in reply. Instead she sagged against the console in front of her. She pressed her palm against the edge until it was sure to leave an indentation.

"Ash," Miranda said softly. "Are you okay?"

Ashley shook her head. "Today was rough...incredibly rough. I'm not cut out to have my own starship, Miranda. A squad I can handle, but a whole damn ship? The _Normandy_ needs a commander, not some half-baked marine who starts vomiting at the sight of a little blood and viscera."

"Do I even want to know?" At Ashley's stubborn shake of her head, Miranda continued, "You're not her, Ash. You need to stop this constant self-appraisal, trying to judge yourself against her standards isn't helping you to make the _Normandy_ yours. You'll never replace Shepard, but that doesn't make you any less capable of assuming her command. Give yourself a chance…and remember I'll be seeing you in two weeks."

"You're so damn bossy," Ashley replied petulantly.

"Guilty as charged." Miranda stared longingly at her lover for a few moments. "Give us a couple of days before you throw me to the mercy of your sisters, Ash, because I need you to throw me down somewhere – bed, deck…bare earth, I don't care. I want you to fuck me for hours on end until I'm nothing more than a puddle beneath you." Miranda sighed wistfully and looked over her shoulder as though she thought she had heard something. "I need to go. I need time to scrub the logs, otherwise the brass will hear a little more than they needed to. So go eat something, sleep…because you'll need all the strength you can get."

"Are you trying to give me orders, Second-Lieutenant Lawson?" Ashley asked as she lifted one eyebrow.

Miranda scowled. "You're never going to get tired of saying that are you?"

"Nope. Now piss off before someone realises you've commandeered their QEC."

"I love you too, Williams."

* * *

**Location Withheld**

Dr Liara T'Soni woke to a soft glow falling across her face. Her eyes opened to see the spherical form of her V.I hovering at the foot of her bed. Save for the blue light radiating outwards from Glyph and a faint glow from the tank on the far side of the room, the rest of her world was in darkness. She stifled a slight groan as she peeled the covers away from her body and exposed herself to the cool air. The N7 t-shirt she wore did not ward off any of the chill that coursed through her bones.

"Dr T'Soni, it is now 0600 hours, your requested rising time," the info drone informed her in its self-important tone. "So it is," she said softly, speaking for the sake of hearing her own voice. She used it so infrequently these days that it never failed to sound odd to her ears.

Ignoring Glyph, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The icy cold shock that radiated upwards through the soles of her feet succeeded in completely shaking her free of sleep. Glyph continued to hover, spinning almost anxiously as she stood with the intention of making her way toward the shower. She had long since learned to ignore the vehement protests of her stomach first thing in the morning. Food could wait until she smelt slightly more respectable._ I'm not sure why you bother, T'Soni. There's no one here to smell your stench, let alone protest about it_.

Liara did not bother to turn on any lights, relying instead on Glyph's soft, blue glow.

"Several new messages were received during the night." The drone floated along behind her, even following her into the bathroom. When she turned and regarded it with an annoyed expression, it merely bobbed up and down. "You may want to prioritise the one from Agent Vikos, it concerns the _SSV Normandy_."

_The Normandy_. With her shower quickly forgotten, Liara instead made her way out of her small living quarters and passed into her work space. She did not bother waiting for Glyph, she knew every step by route. The intricate technology that made up the heart of the Shadow Broker's network had changed somewhat since it had been shoe-horned into a much smaller space on board the Normandy. Her bank of monitors was spread out in a semi-circle in front of a sophisticated HI console. Given that the Broker essentially never went offline, each monitor was currently occupied with a different element of her network. Liara ran her gaze over several, noting key developments, before turning her attention to the holographic interface at her fingertips. With a few rapid swipes of her fingers, she brought up Agent Vikos's message.

_Attican Traverse. 0400 hours. Incident with civilian freighter MSV _Steinbeck_. _Normandy _suffered minor damage, no casualties. _

Vikos's rudimentary report indicated that he did not think the Broker would be overly concerned with the information. Although Liara had subtly tasked a dozen of her agents to monitor the _Normandy_, she had given them no purpose beyond that – simple monitoring. None of them were to know that her interests went beyond mere information gathering into actual concern for the vessel. Although Liara had essentially disengaged from their lives, she could not simply sever her emotions. The crewmembers were her family.

She had been channelling Ashley Williams useful information for the past several months – just often enough to give her a sense that she was actively doing something to support her friends, not enough to make her feel as though she might as well have still been on board the _Normandy_.

Liara suppressed a shiver. It was bitterly cold but she delayed showering and eating until she had fired off messages to Vikos and several other agents within close proximity of the _Normandy's_ location. The shower that followed was perfunctory. She kept the temperature lukewarm lest she be tempted to linger beneath the faucet for more than a few minutes. If she allowed herself to close her eyes Liara knew that her mind would wander...and nothing good ever came of a wandering mind. She dressed warmly in one of her favoured black suits.

Her meal she ate mechanically standing in her small kitchen. Bread, cheese and cold lamb were washed down with a glass of icy water. Liara had never cared for human food, but the simple fare was flavoursome and far superior to MREs or protein bars. With her relentless hunger sated for the time being, Liara filled a canteen of water and returned to her work station.

She was pleased to see that two of her agents had already responded with the requested information. She opened their messages and began to draw together the data to extrapolate the extent of the incident in the Attican Traverse. It would have saved Liara time and effort simply opening two-way communication with the _Normandy _itself, but her stubborn adherence to maintaining the web she had woven around herself would not allow her even that small contact. Instead she continued to work from afar, utilising her resources as best she could.

The Shadow Broker's network had been vastly compromised in the wake of the Reaper War. Over seventy-five percent of her agents had simply gone off line. In most cases Liara did not know their fate – no doubt many would have perished in the war, others would have lost their own resources. Following Omega and her brief partnership with Aria T'Loak, Liara had spent the past five months painstakingly re-establishing and rebuilding the network. So far most of her efforts had reminded inwardly focused, but she was finally reaching the point where she was able to offer discreet support to key projects. It was merely a drop in the ocean but, in the quest to ensure that her life remained meaningful, Liara had to feel as though she was doing something.

Pausing only long enough to take small sips of water, Liara continued working until she lost all sense of time. At one point Glyph had attempted to raise the blinds and shed some light into her darkened world, but her curt response – a harsh growl as opposed to actual words - had sent the little info drone scurrying into a corner.

By the time Glyph emerged, Liara was beginning to develop a headache from staring at her screens for too long and her water had long since been drained. When she straightened her neck, it gave a very audible crack of protest.

"Dr T'Soni, you have been working for eight point five hours without nutritional sustenance," Glyph informed her. Had the drone been self-aware, no doubt it would have approached its task with something approaching trepidation. "It is highly recommended that you-"

Without pausing a beat, Liara simply powered down the drone's program. Glyph winked out of existence and she was left bathed in the light from her screens and the interface in front of her. She continued working until the headache eventually drove her backwards as though an invisible force was pushing her away from her work. Despite having reached a critical juncture in one of her analyses, Liara was desperately hungry. Once again, she ignored her instinct for food and instead chose to move into the largest room in her compound. For the first time that day, she brought up the lights, illuminating a largely vacant space. Located behind her workspace and living quarters, there were no windows out onto the world beyond. The floor, walls and ceiling were all bare thermocrete, the only signs that the room had any purposes were a series of projectors mounted on the ceiling. After bringing up the lights, Liara tapped a few more commands into the control panel. She paused for a few seconds, and then decided on 'programme 13.' As the main lights dimmed and a series of moving targets winked into existence, Liara felt a new sense of purpose descend over her mind. The headache was forgotten as soon as the first mass effect field danced on her fingertips.

When the first target rocketed toward her, Liara responded by throwing Warp, first one and then two more in rapid succession as the targets kept coming. She missed only one, it swooped in close but she forced herself into a diving roll to avoid it. And they kept coming, arcing towards her in a simulated combat that bore absolutely no resemblance to the gritty, bloody world of war that she knew intimately. However this was all she had. Her exertions succeeded in creating a thin sheen of sweat over her body, quickly wicked away by her suit but it gathered on her forehead. Soon drops were sliding down over her temples and cheeks. Still Liara kept going, pushing herself without ever really taxing her abilities. She had long since learned that, without real danger, she could only ever achieve a dull sort of exhaustion that left her sweaty and gasping for breath.

Liara wanted more. She hungered for the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, for the sound of screams filling her ears and the deeply satisfying noise created only by the sound of flesh being torn apart. Here in this lonely place the only sounds were the primal screams torn from her own throat as she pretended to fight. The only blood was violet, dripping from her knuckles where she had misjudged a punch and slammed her fist into the wall instead of a target...or at least that was what Liara tried to tell herself. The subsequent second, third and fourth punches could most definitely not be said to be such a mistake. It was only when Liara stared down at her bloody, raw knuckles that she acknowledged what she had done. She had a limited supply of medigel. It was for emergencies...not losing her temper.

With her wounded hand dangling limply at her side, Liara switched the program off and padded back out into the living spaces of her compound. She paused momentarily by the blinds. The thought that perhaps she should go outside and take in some fresh air seemed sensible until she realised that night would have long since fallen – shrouding her surroundings both in darkness and a claustrophobic cold.

Instead she chose to shower again. She lingered longer than she had that morning. It was oddly satisfying watching her blood run down the drain until even her lukewarm water ran out and she was punished with an icy blast.

Naked, with droplets of water threatening to freeze on her skin, Liara crossed to the chest in which she kept her clothes. This time her fingers instinctively went not to the drawer holding her suits, but to a small one at the top. Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly inched it open until she could see the soft grey material that lay within. Well-worn, it was faded in places, but the N7 logo on the right breast of the hoodie was still bright. Liara reached for it, gently running her fingers over the embroidery. Drawing in a deep breath, she burrowed her cold fingers beneath the garment. Her fingers touched the edge of the object that lay hidden beneath and she started to draw it out slowly. Liara froze when the frame was half way out. She could already see more than enough to know that she could not face the photo today. Hurriedly, she jammed it back beneath the hoodie and slammed the drawer shut.

The violent movement startled the little blob of yellow in the tank nearby - the only other living thing in the compound. Liara crossed the room and pressed the palm of her hand against the glass. Other than her own personal possessions and clothes, this creature was all she had taken from the Normandy. Horatio darted back and forth in front of the glass, blissfully unaware of the turmoil simmering beneath the skin of the shape on the other side of the glass. Liara scattered a small pinch of food into the tank. With his goal achieved, Horatio paid her no further attention.

With her skin icy cold, Liara turned to survey her world – made up of cold greys and utilitarian furniture. It was a meagre existence, but she told herself it was what she wanted. As she lingered in the silence, for a few awful seconds she felt the familiar burn of panic and grief starting to take hold of her body.

_"I love you, Liara. No matter what happens today, I'll always love you."_

With nothing more than an impressive display of willpower, Liara forced down the sob that attempted to escape from her throat. She had made the mistake of allowing herself too much time for reflection. She moved as though on auto-pilot. After throwing on a t-shirt, Liara made her way to the bed. As her ice cold limbs settled beneath the thick covers, her body began to warm. Before lying down, she reached across to the bottle at her bedside. She tipped one of the small, green capsules into her hand. After a moment's reflection, she added a second. Both were washed down in a single swallow of water.

Liara's head hit the pillow. The pills did their work and she entered a deep, dreamless sleep less than a minute later.


	2. A Magnificent Anachronism

**Chapter Two**  
**A Magnificent Anachronism**

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

In tearing free from her nightmare, Liara awoke with a piercing, anguished scream on her lips and a thin sheen of sweat covering her entire body. The t-shirt she wore was plastered to her torso, clinging to her chest in a manner that would have been obscene if there was anyone to actually stare at her. As the echoes of her scream faded, the only sounds she could hear were the faint humming of the fish tank and her own gasps for air. Liara eventually slumped forward, her head falling into her hands.

The sweat eventually cooled on her skin to the point where she was shivering uncontrollably. Still she did not move. Instead she lost herself in thoughts of the dream - the same one that had woken her for the past two nights despite upping her dose of sleeping pills. The sleeping tablets she took religiously commonly had the side-effect of suppressing dreams, but for some reason they no longer granted her the oblivion she craved.

The same routine that she had followed mechanically each morning for months usually brought a measure of comfort and normality. She had employed much the same technique during her long months of isolation on a dig site. In her strict adherence to times for waking, eating and working, she had always managed to stave off the irrational loneliness that others would have felt. Now it was an oppressive chain bound around her limbs. Her stomach craved food, but she did not want to go through the motions of eating. There were no doubt dozens of messages waiting for the Shadow Broker, but she could not face the harsh glare of the screens. Even the promise of frenetic, mindless activity within one of her training programmes held no appeal.

Usually she felt safe within the thermocrete walls of her compound, but this morning the low ceiling seemed to press down on her body. The walls seemed closer together than they had the day before. Every dull grey surface was shrinking inwards at a rapid pace. Her heartbeat began to rise again.

Her actions became driven by the sole purpose of getting outside as quickly as possible. She dragged on a minimal amount of clothing over her chilled limbs and made her way to the double-sealed door that separated her from the world outside. She had deactivated Glyph the previous evening in a sudden outburst of pique. With the blinds still down, she had no idea as to the weather or even the time of day.

_You're falling to pieces, T'Soni_, she thought as she dragged on the heavy coat she kept by the door. _Fifty years working on isolated dig sites and you can't handle_ _a few months alone? _

Liara jammed her feet into a pair of boots and went to disable the security system so she could leave the compound. Her fingers trembled within the haptic interface, inputting the wrong code twice before she forced herself to slow her breathing and concentrate. The aggravatingly slow pace of the automatic door drove her to shove her shoulder against it and force her way outside.

_Space_. Although a biting cold immediately assaulted Liara through the clothes she wore, she eagerly embraced the world beyond her sterile home. Her boots made little sound on the soft earth beneath her feet, at least until she reached the shore of the lake and smooth rocks ground against one another as she stepped on them. Liara drew in a deep breath of bitingly fresh air. _Thank the Goddess. I can breathe again. _

Her panic attack melted away in the face of the view laid out before her. The surface of the lake was as much a mirror as it was water. The glassy surface reflected back the surrounding riot of colours. From the vivid green of the closely packed fauna to the stark black and white of the peaks that hovered protectively above them. In every direction, the mountains were crowded and crushed together as though some cosmic power had driven them together with a crashing grip. Contrasted against the violence, the expanse of the lake created the illusion of infinite space. The stormy patchwork of clouds rolled by overhead – some were white, others a slate grey that usually heralded rain or snow.

It was scenery that encompassed an entire breadth of emotions – from anger to peace; from loneliness to intense fulfilment. As a whole, it offered a silent counterpart to the tortured emotions of the young asari. Liara took several steps forward until the toes of her boots tapped against the surface of the lake. Ripples radiated outwards from the small contact – eventually dying as the lake swallowed them. She tapped her toes again, more ripples spread forth. Once again the ripples died and the lake returned to a seamless whole.

Liara ignored the cold and picked out a seat for herself on the fallen limb of a tree. It was slightly damp with dew, but she did not care. Overhead a nameless bird dipped and soared. Liara watched its flight, losing herself in the way it blended against the landscape around it. The bird belonged here, she did not.

In all truth Liara had very little knowledge of this small corner of Earth in which she unexpectedly found herself. Her perfunctory scans had revealed that the lake was a glacier formation from Earth's last ice age. Densely packed, almost impenetrable rainforests clung precariously to the steep slopes. Local wildlife was abundant but mostly consisted of small mammals and birds. It was quiet…almost painfully so.

Aria T'Loak had obviously appreciated the isolation of the place when it came to building her safe-house in the remote wilderness. Liara was also grateful for that fact, but unlike the Queen of Omega she could find solace and comfort in beauty. The knowledge that there were still small corners of the galaxy that had remained untouched by the war gave her a measure of peace.

A few icy drops from above suddenly splashed against her crest. The rain she had predicted earlier had arrived. Instead of retreating indoors, Liara titled her face skyward and closed her eyes. The heavy rain pelted against her bare skin. The water eventually began tracking down over her cheeks before dribbling off her jaw. For a few blissful minutes it was as though she was actually crying for the first time in six months. She could shed tears without giving into the pain.

* * *

**SSV Normandy SR-2**

Throughout the day, Sam dutifully responded to an array of messages on a number of topics. Most were of the mind-numbingly boring variety that required little in the way of actual thought processes to deal with. Some she had to flag for Commander Williams' attention, others she simply deleted after a perfunctory scan. However, as the day wore on and she neared the end of yet another shift, Sam stubbornly ignored one particular message. It was the message she had been both anticipating and dreading for several days, yet it remained unread in her inbox. Several times her fingers had made an awkward twitching motion on her interface, as though her subconscious was trying to open it. Once she even found herself with the message selected, her finger poised above the 'open' command. This hesitation lasted for almost two minutes before she jerked her fingers again and forced herself to open another window.

As the end of her shift neared Sam spent a full ten minutes simply staring at the message without opening it. _Sam, you're being ridiculous. Just open the bloody message and stop wasting time in which you're supposed to be doing your job_. Her shoulders sagged heavily. _My job_. In all truth, Sam was exhausted. She'd pulled double shifts for the past five days straight in an effort to forget the vid feed of the commendation ceremony. Morale on the _Normandy_ as a whole was low. The crew's promised shore leave looked like nothing more than a distant carrot dangling above their heads as they pushed themselves beyond the limits of endurance.

In the wake of the incident with the MSV _Steinbeck_, the entire crew was on edge. The lives of their commander and two senior crewmembers had almost been lost for absolutely nothing. The speculation that the _Normandy_ itself had been the target was running rampant amongst the crew. No one performed at their best with a giant target painted on the hull of their ship – imagined or otherwise. As much as she respected Commander Williams, Sam had to admit that she had shown distinct signs of coming apart at the seams. Her temper was frayed to the point where her outbursts reminded Sam of Shepard – and not in a good way. Sam remained sympathetic. The crew had been pushed too hard, Ashley in particular.

With an air of decisiveness, Sam finally stabbed her finger on the message she had been avoiding all day. She groaned audibly when she realised that Lucy had taken the trouble to record a vid message. The auto-play function kicked in while Sam was too numb to stop it. Lucy's soft features emerged on screen. The Lieutenant looked incredibly tired…but also unmistakably happy. She was dressed in a white tank top and her hair was slightly mussed. Sam's cruel mind speculated that she had probably just finished yet another bout of energetic sex with her wife.

_Unfair, Traynor, totally unfair! _she growled inwardly. _They're married…just because you haven't had sex in- _Sam paused and wrinkled her brow. Actually, she couldn't remember the last time she had sex. Her efforts to remember were cut short when Lucy started talking.

"Hey, Sam…" Lucy suddenly paused following her initial greeting. She propped her elbows up on the table she was sitting at and rested her chin in her hands. Eventually she had to turn her gaze away from the feed as she continued, "This has to be one of the most difficult messages I've ever had to leave. I'm not even sure what to say other than I'm sorry, but I'd be lying. How can I be sorry about something as precious as having Susannah alive and well? I honestly do like you, Sam. Your friendship was pretty much all that kept me going in those first months after the end of the war – after all that I had seen with...Shepard. Throughout all those games of chess I still maintain that the only games I won were the ones you let me win. I'll never forget what you did for me." Lucy shook her head and finally looked back at the feed. Her dark brown eyes were luminous. "This is probably stupid…you're probably thinking that I'm stupid for being so cut up about this, it's not like our relationship had even begun-"

_Great, so now I'm stupid_, Sam thought with an ache.

"-before it ended." Lucy sighed and a small grin swept across her face. "It still feels as though it's a dream. Susannah doesn't remember a lot of what happened to her and I'm not surprise. Apparently her hard suit remained intact when her fighter was destroyed. Her limbs were pretty burned up and she was unconscious when a rescue shuttle hauled her aboard. They were one of only three ships to make it clear of the Battle for Arcturus. _Three_. Although her suit sealed itself successfully they still thought she was going to die. She spent months semi-conscious and delirious…sorry, Sam, I'm not sure why I'm giving you the half-baked story when Suze could tell it a hell of a lot better. Listen, when you're next on Earth please get in touch. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Suze would love to meet you-"

"Not bloody likely," Sam muttered. Lucy's entire demeanour seemed brighter than when the message had started. Conversely, Sam wished she'd deleted the whole thing and saved herself the trouble.

"I'm so sorry it had taken me so long to send this damn message. I don't know…I guess I thought I was living in some dream world where I meant a lot more to you than I actually did. There must be women cued up around the block to meet someone who actually served with _The Shepard-_"

_Please tell me where this imaginary block is?_ Sam thought. _Or is it just as imaginary as all those women? _

"The offer of a picnic still stands…that is if I can get time off from my duties. There's so much to do, Sam, but I think the Alliance has really stepped into the breach to hold humanity together. I'm recommending to my campaign manager that the _Normandy_ be taken off active duty to tour – you know, drive up morale and urge people to pull together-"

Sam wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea of being part of a PR campaign. She also knew that Ashley would respond with her trademark 'with all due respect, sir' if it was suggested by the brass.

"It's really important at times like this. Without the Alliance, we'd end up like the other systems. I've heard it's pretty bad out there. Pirates, anarchy, random massacres-"

A frown creased Sam's brow. _Is it really that bad? I guess we are in a cocoon here on the _Normandy.

"Anyway, I've waffled enough and you're probably really busy. Take care of yourself, Sam. I'm sure I'll see you soon."

The message ended and Sam was left staring at her console. She drew a complete emotional and mental blank for several minutes as she simply stood...staring.

_Lauren._ Sam finally remembered the name of the woman she'd last fucked. Her face, along with her last name, was a distant memory, but blonde hair and blue eyes seemed familiar. A visiting R & D scientist from Aldrin Labs, it was only ever destined to be a two-week fling – especially given that Sam thought she had been batting way out of her league. That was fifteen months ago…give or take a few more months. _Bloody hell_, Sam thought. _Is there anyone in this Galaxy who has less mojo than you, Sam Traynor?_ After only a brief consideration, she deleted the message from Lucy. Seeing it gone from her inbox brought an instant feeling of satisfaction for about two point four seconds before she regretted her decision.

_Okay, breathe, Sam. You don't need to go back into the message logs and retrieve it…you're good. Breathe…_

"Traynor?"

_Breathe._

"Traynor!"

"Sh-" Catching herself before the entire expletive left her mouth. Sam turned around to find Commander Ashley Williams standing with her arms folded across her chest in an intimidating pose. Obviously having emerged from the elevator at the same time Garrus and Tali stood just behind her. It wasn't exactly an ideal moment to be caught up in her own thoughts, ignoring her CO. Sam snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm expecting an urgent call from Alliance HQ. When it comes through, can you let me know asap?" Ashley asked. She continued even as the trio started walking away. "I'll be in the conference room."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam nodded in response. As soon as the CO, Garrus and Tali had disappeared in the direction of the War Room, Sam turned and slapped her hand against the console in frustration. "Damn you, Lucy Park."

Sam's watch relief turned up five minutes later. As Williams had given her the detail, she sent the Yeoman away reluctantly. Her sleeping pod would have to wait. Thankfully the message came through less than ten minutes later…or at least Sam thought it was the message Ashley was waiting for. There was nothing to patch through, it was a terse communication from some colonel Sam had never heard of simply stating _Permission denied_.

_Oh bloody hell_, Sam groaned inwardly. _I'm going to have to go in there._ _Whatever happened to the good old days when I could just tell Shepard there was an incoming call and be done with it?_

Sam passed Privates Campbell and Westmoreland in the security alcove, both gave her 'better you than me' expressions. She wasn't sure why they were so touchy about everything, although she speculated that it had something to do with the fact that she had been present when Miranda Lawson took them both down with one hand.

The conversation in the conference room came to an abrupt halt when Sam peered in nervously. She paused for a few moments, wondering whether Ashley wanted Garrus and Tali to hear the contents of the message.

"Traynor?"

Sam took a punt. "It said permission denied. No further explanation. Do you…want me to establish contact with HQ and ascertain-"

"Shit," Ashley hissed as she slammed her balled up fist on the table. Sam immediately stopped talking at the harsh tone. The Commander eventually sighed in resignation and shook her head. "Well that's the end of that. Mission's scrubbed."

Garrus's mandibles twitched in agitation. "Ash, If we don't act now we'll lose their trail altogether. They were using a stolen ship as it is. Think about it, the intel strongly suggests that they were targeting the _Normandy_ specifically. _Vengeance for the 300,000_?"

Ashley nodded. "Bahak…I know, Garrus. I agree with you, we should pursue…but HQ obviously feels otherwise. My hands are tied on this-"

"They were targeting the _Normandy_!" Garrus repeated. "The three of us were almost killed…the ship destroyed. Whoever is behind this is a very clear threat, we need to eliminate-"

"_Whoever is behind this_ being the operative words in this scenario!" Ashley's frustration was evident in her voice. "We could spend weeks traipsing around the Traverse…maybe even the Terminus Systems before we catch a whiff of those bastards. As a Spectre, I'd love nothing more than to hunt them down, but we have other priorities."

"Like looking out for _human_ colonies…_human_ interests," Garrus suggested pointedly.

"That's unfair, Garrus!" It was the first time that Sam had heard Tali add her opinion to the conversation. "Everyone is stretched. The Alliance are doing the best they can."

"And how much aid have they given to Rannoch? To Palaven?" Garrus demanded.

"Garrus, this isn't you," Tali admonished. "If not for Shepard's efforts, you would never have had Krogan troops on Palaven. You owe the Alliance...you owe Shepard."

Garrus appeared slightly mollified, he looked away for a moment to bring himself under control. Sam saw his fingers ball into large fists and knew that he was struggling. For the first time she began to wonder if she could make a discreet exit from the conference room even though Ashley had not dismissed her.

"I'm sorry, Ash…it's just that I have a bad feeling that this will come back to bite us in the ass." Garrus gave his CO a level stare. "If Shepard were here she would have-"

"If Shepard were here she would have what, Vakarian?" Bitterness was evident in Ashley's tone. "We don't know what the hell Shepard would have done in this situation because she's _dead!_ She doesn't get to experience the _peace_ that her death won us." As Sam suppressed a slight gasp, Ashley suddenly lowered her gaze. A few moments later she sighed wearily. "The discussion is over. Archive all files relating to the MSV _Steinbeck_. I don't want any more time wasted on this matter. Understood? You're both dismissed."

_And me?_ Sam thought hopefully. _Or was I supposed to have slipped out after delivering the message? Shit, does the Commander even know I'm still standing here? Oh god! _

Garrus responded with only a stiff nod, whilst Tali circled around the table to lay a gentle hand on Ashley's shoulder. Sam did not know what the quarian was trying to convey, but she saw Ashley respond with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Tali and Garrus left together, both moving past Sam as she searched their faces for some hint of whether she ought to join them. Garrus merely shrugged. Sam looked desperately over her shoulder as they left, looking away only when she saw Garrus reach out to take Tali's hand in his own.

_Okay, still standing here_, Sam thought as she turned back to face Ashley. "Um…ma'am?"

"Permission to speak freely, Traynor," Ashley said without lifting her gaze.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" Sam was quite sure she hadn't asked the necessary question in the first place.

"Do you always have to be so damn polite?" Ashley smiled sardonically. "I'm giving you permission to tell me what a crap job I'm doing. It's a rare opportunity to let your CO know exactly what you think, so I'd take it if I were you."

Sam didn't think she was being polite. Regardless of her current state of mind, Ashley was her CO. As a Specialist, she was so far down the food chain that just thinking disrespectful thoughts about an officer made her slightly nervous. Of course that wasn't to say that Sam wasn't a polite person, her parents had raised her well, but she did resent the implication that she was incapable of speaking her mind.

"No," Sam replied abruptly. The Spectre's expression was implacable, but Sam definitely had her undivided attention. _I need a new job_, Sam thought in the seconds before she drew a breath and started talking. "You want me to tell you what a crap job you're doing as some sort of…of vindication for your behaviour. I stand here and give you a piece of my mind, letting you know exactly what I think of your leadership qualities and your failure to live up to expectations. Meanwhile you stand there and listen, feeling like shit, and wallowing in a mind-set of your own creation. Well I won't give you what you want, _ma'am_."

Ashley was inscrutable. "And why not?"

"Because you're not doing a crap job." Sam sometimes surprised herself with her own powers of articulation. _Crap job? Is that a technical term?_ "And every crewmember on this ship would agree with me. I was in command of the _Normandy_ for about ninety minutes, and that was eight-nine minutes too many. You've held this ship…and its crew together for over five months without leave, you haven't lost a single man and the _Normandy_ has barely suffered a scratch. I'd say you're doing a bloody good job, Commander."

Sam's words finally earned a reaction. Ashley's shoulders sagged slightly. "But Garrus-"

"Is clearly as stressed as you are. As much as he and Tali want to remain on the _Normandy_, they have their own homes to consider. Neither of them has been home for months. Garrus' hasn't seen his sister. Tali desperately wants to join her people on Rannoch-" Sam bit her lip. She knew it wasn't her place to fill Ashley in on the personal lives of her crew. "You should talk to them, ma'am."

"It's Ash, Sam. We're off the record," she replied quietly, straightening a little. "And thanks for the advice. I might even take some of it into consideration."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You damn well better."

Ashley managed a small smile. "How do you feel about scotch?"

"Huh?" Sam frowned.

"I'm inviting you to drink with me," Ashley explained. "I think your answer is supposed to be 'ma'am, the Specialist loves scotch, ma'am! Hoo rah!' or something to that effect."

"It would be if I was some gung ho marine," Sam chuckled. She felt a much of the tension she had been carrying disappear from her shoulders and the deleted message from Lucy was forgotten. "I'm a tech geek, remember? If I tried to say 'hoo rah' it would sound...well, it would sound just like that – more than a little pathetic. I'd love to join you for a drink, Comman-…I mean, Ashley. Thank you."

"Too damn polite, Sam…too damn polite," Ashley shook her head in mock disapproval.

* * *

**Undisclosed Location**

"_You're going to be a father..."_

As she slid in and out of consciousness it became more difficult to focus on the dream. It had initially felt so real that she thought it _was_ her reality. Then it was gone, yanked cruelly out of her grasp as she was dragged back to the hell of her physical body.

Every simple act was an exercise in torture – from opening her eyes to drawing in a breath. She had been staring up at an unfamiliar face - a heavy-set man with thinning red hair and sympathetic green eyes. Something in his gaze told her that she could trust him and so she tried to speak. Only whispers emerged, barely sounds let alone words. It was vital that she get the name out, but it was becoming increasingly difficult just to breathe.

When she woke again the kind-eyed man was gone, replaced by pure-white nothingness. Everything was still difficult and painful, which ordinarily would have indicated that this was real. Then again, she had been mistaken once already. Opening and closing her eyes came easily. She did this several times until her vision focused. Instead of nothing, she found a white ceiling above her. Tilting her head a fraction left and right confirmed that it was a white ceiling in a white-walled room. There were no variations in colour other than the bank of machines next to her bed. The pumps, monitors and fluid stations were appropriately coloured in bland greys with haptic readouts that hurt her eyes to stare at.

Her first instinct was that she was utterly alone and this unnerved her more than her pain or the stark white room. Unlike the dream, she found that she could move her hands and feet at will. After testing each experimentally and determining her strength, she forcefully willed herself into a sitting position. A sharp cry of effort escaped her lips and the white room spun wildly for several moments. Her heart hammered in her chest as though she had been running. When she slumped forward, strands of dark hair fell in lengths over her face. With agonisingly slow movements, she reached up to run a hand through her hair. It trailed down over her shoulders.

A flash of remembered conversation accompanied the movement. _"You're a butcher, T'Soni."_

There were tubes connected to her arm. They snagged on something as she moved her arm and a sharp pain went shooting up her arm. Her hand fell. She studied the two tubes protruding from her arm. Eventually she grew bored of watching the fluid move along the tube. The fingers lay pale and thing but very ordinary in comparison to those of her left hand which were _white_. When she moved it she realised that the hand wasn't simply white. The harsh lighting in the room reflected the crystalline formations that covered the skin of her entire left hand and forearm. It joined with her natural skin at the elbow in a mottled effect that made the skin look diseased and patchy. With trembling fingers, she reached across to touch the growth. She gasped at the first contact. It was ice cold to the touch and as smooth as marble. The white fingers twitched slightly, but the touch did not register as it should have. Although she could feel herself touching the arm, it felt distant and removed from her own body. She scratched at the surface, but it was absolutely inflexible.

"What...th-" _hell?_

It was too difficult to make her voice work. Her words rasped in a dry throat. She clutched at her forehead with the natural fingers of her right hand while the foreign appendage lay in her lap as though discarded.

There were memories scattered throughout her mind but any sort of overall cohesion remained elusive. As she struggled to try and make sense of what had happened, part of the white wall suddenly moved, sliding to reveal a door. A few moments later, her entire world was jarred by the appearance of a smiling woman wearing an Alliance science uniform. Shepard did not recognise her. However when she opened her mouth and spoke -

"Hello, Shepard."

- the two simple words set a flurry of chaotic scenes in motion...

"_Have I told you how much I love you?" _

"_Are you trying to give me a heart attack, T'Soni?" _

_"Even if you are honorary Krogan, you're still a pale, squishy little human. If anything happens to you, the wife would never forgive me." _

"_Fuck appropriate. Is it going to be more appropriate when we're out in the open fighting Reapers? I want you to kiss me, Commander Shepard."_

"_Like any family, you're a pack of goddamn arseholes…but I wouldn't be standing here without you. If I had my way, none of you would be following me in this madness, but I know I don't stand a chance in hell of getting to that Crucible alone."_

"_You reckless...obtuse..fool!" _

"_We're cut off from the Crucible. Someone has to take down that fucking Reaper or this whole show is over."_

"_For the love of the Goddess let me go! Please Evan...Evan!"_

"_Your scars...and your eyes...they're um...they're glowing red."_

"_I've already broken my promise to her, help me save her life. Liara...she's my everything."_

As the memories came flooding back, so did her identity - _Commander Evangeline Hannah Shepard, Alliance Marine Core_..._and human battery for the Crucible_. Shepard started to run her right hand over the accessible skin she could see. It was smooth, unblemished. With a frown, she dragged open the medical gown she wore. Where there had once been a hideous tangle of scars across her chest, there was only her own pale skin. She pressed her fingers against the skin of her face, searching frantically for the scars she had carried for almost a year. There were none.

"What...happened to me?" Shepard whispered.

"You were missing for six months," the other woman replied cautiously. "We are still unsure how exactly you survived-"

"Who the hell are you?" There were so many questions flooding her mind that they overlapped. She turned to look at the woman and analysed her in a perfunctory manner - blonde hair, what appeared to be green eyes, slim...attractive. None of it mattered, all Shepard wanted were her answers.

"Dr Naomi Stone," the woman replied calmly. "Please call me Naomi. How do you feel, Evan?"

"How do you think I feel?" Shepard muttered, plucking at the tubes impaled in her arm. It still hurt to speak and she desperately wanted a drink, but she was reluctant to ask this woman for anything. "You're...telling me I've been missing for six months? I remember...most of what happened to me. I was inside the Crucible with my heart skewered. Then the fucking thing blew up, and now I'm lying here without a scratch on me. Explain that to me, Dr Stone."

"I'm afraid I cannot-"

"Then at least let me see Liara T'Soni. Surely she knows I'm alive. Is she already here?" Shepard demanded. "Wherever there fuck_ here_ is."

"Shepard, we've attempted to locate Dr T'Soni-"

"What do you mean _attempted to locate_?" _Why can't I get a single answer out of this woman?_

In her anger, Shepard's trembling fingers closed over the tubes impaled in her arm. With a severe tug, she jerked both free and tossed them to one side. Ignoring the trickle of blood that followed, Shepard forced her body over the side of the bed. Her legs refused to cooperate. With little strength in her muscles, they immediately gave way and she fell hard.

"Shepard! We're trying to help," Dr Stone's voice was tinged with concern – real or artificial, Shepard could not tell. The woman was difficult to read.

There was absolutely no dignity to be found in the manner in which she clawed her way across the slick floor. Nor was there any point to her efforts. All she could hope to achieve with the agonising exertion was to show that she was serious about obtaining some answers. Shepard pressed her body into the corner of the white room, wedging her back against the solidity of the wall behind her.

When she turned, she saw others in the room in addition to the blonde doctor. Shepard identified another scientist and an Alliance soldier, a holstered pistol at his waist. All Shepard could do was drag her emaciated legs to her chest as a sort of makeshift shield. She wrapped her arms around them, still loathing the feel of her artificial limb as it touched her skin.

"Now, Shepard..." The male scientist took a few hesitant steps forward. He kept his hands raised in an attempt at a placating gesture. "You need to calm down before we can help you."

Shepard narrowed her eyes as she studied him – thin with balding dark hair and a ridiculous attempt at a moustache above his thin lips. There was absolutely nothing about his simulated sympathetic expression that she trusted. Nor did she trust Dr Stone, regardless of her claim that they were trying to help her.

"You keep saying you're trying to help me." Shepard's throat felt like sandpaper. "I want to see Liara T'Soni."

"As I was saying, Evan," Dr Stone said gently. "We have been unable to-"

"Bullshit!" Shepard spat. The sudden escalation in tone distressed her throat. "If Liara knew that I was alive, then she would be here already. Which clearly indicates that you haven't made any effort to contact her or even broadcast news of my survival to the galaxy as a whole. Which leads me to the question of why the fuck are you hiding me?"

Stone cast a quick, worried glance across at her colleague. In that instant Shepard saw something flicker in his eyes that only heightened her distrust. What she did not understand was why Alliance personnel seemed to have no interest in trying to contact her bondmate or indeed confirming that Commander Shepard had survived the destruction of the Crucible. A dozen possibilities entered her mind, but none seemed to make any sense.

Shepard tried a different tact. "At least let me talk to Admiral Hackett...or Anderson?"

Another flicker, another strange reaction. The growing sense of anxiety in Shepard's gut became full on dread. Keeping her movements as casual as possible, Shepard pressed the palms of her hands against the floor. At full fitness she could carve a path straight through both scientists and reach the armed soldier without a change to her heartbeat. She cursed her frail condition, knowing she would be lucky to stand let alone move quickly enough. Shepard was extremely tired. All she wanted was to go to sleep with the knowledge that Liara knew she was alive. Clearly that was too much to ask for.

Both scientists were staring at her intently when Shepard's eyes suddenly rolled back in her head and her limp body slumped to the cold floor. Her limbs spasmed in jerky, uncontrolled motions.

"I told you she was about to crash, Stone!"

"It's Shepard. We don't know how the hell she'll react to anything for god's sake, Heller. You...Corporal, help us get her back onto the bed," Stone ordered. "Careful with her or you'll-"

Stone was cut short as she found herself flailing backwards following a shove to her chest. The corporal who had been attempting to lift Shepard by her armpits now found himself staring down the barrel of his own Predator.

"Back the fuck up," Shepard hissed. "All three of you."

In the wake of her severe tone, Stone, Heller and the shame-faced corporal gave her a measure of distance.

"Shepard-" Stone began.

"Shut-up." It took every effort for Shepard to keep both the tone of her voice firm and the weapon from trembling in her grasp. Already the relatively light Predator felt as though it weighed a ton. "You're going to bring me someone I recognise - T'Soni, Lieutenant-Commander Williams, Admiral Anderson...I don't care. I just want to see the face of someone I don't suspect to be a lying snake."

"Or what, Shepard?" Heller asked, annoyance was creeping into his thin voice. "I hardly think you're capable of shooting your way out of here."

"Probably not, but I will be able to shoot you so-called doctors and Corporal Cheese-dick over there. I want answers from someone I trust!" Shepard demanded. Her heartbeat was once against hammering wildly. She tried to calm herself, knowing that she would crash for real if she could not bring her heart-rate under control. The brief burst of exertion when she had taken the Predator had taxed her severely, sapping what little strength she did have. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Calm down, Evan," Naomi Stone pleaded. "You're dehydrated and incapable of thinking rationally. You're pointing a weapon at unarmed SA personnel. This isn't you."

Shepard was unfazed. "How the hell do you know what I'm capable of?"

"Evan-"

Her placating tone failed as Shepard snapped, "Don't fucking use my first name like you know me!"

The Predator began to waiver slightly. Shepard's heart was beating so fast she was on the verge of passing out. Throwing in the towel was not an option. She needed answers, but even more she needed Liara.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Heller scoffed. "I want a marine detail in here immediately, someone put this crazed woman down before she shoots herself in the foot!"

Drawing in one even breath, Shepard gentled squeezed the trigger. The Predator jumped once in her hands. The retort sounded like thunder within the confined space. Heller froze, the blood having drained from his face to render his skin almost white. The Alliance insignia on his sleeve had been seared off with almost perfect precision.

"Go ahead...tell me I missed," Shepard whispered. Her entire body sagged with fatigue and she could not even bring herself to care about the insanity of her own actions.

Shepard heard heavy bootfalls beyond the door. Less than a second later three armed marines filed into the room in perfect tactical formation. Each had a Vindicator levelled with intent in her direction. Shepard did not lower the pistol in her own hand.

"Stand down, marines!" a voice sliced through the tense silence in the room.

The Predator in Shepard's hand trembled and almost slipped from her grasp altogether when Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard forced her way through the marines. She moved past both Heller and Stone, stopping only a metre short of her daughter. The pistol twitched._ I'm pointing a gun at my mother_, Shepard thought in disbelief. Hannah looked as though she had aged at least five years since Shepard had last seen her. Her previously long hair had been cut into a neat bob, although more strands of grey had appeared in the dark strands. She looked tired in every sense of the word, even her perfect posture appeared to have deserted her as her shoulders slumped.

"Evie." Hannah's face creased into a reassuring smile. "You're still very sick, honey. These people are only trying to help. You need to let them do their jobs."

Although she did not trust Heller or Stone, Shepard lowered the pistol – as much a result of exhaustion as her mother's presence. It was no longer just her hand that was trembling. Her entire body was gripped by crippling spasms of pain. Her efforts to hold herself upright failed and she slumped to her knees. Hannah surged forward and managed to catch her as she fell, cushioning her fall.

"Mum what the hell is going on here?"

"Hand over the gun, sweetie," Hannah said gently, her tone perfectly calm despite the situation.

"I need to see Liara," Shepard pleaded. "These morons say they don't know where she is. I think they're fucking lying."

"Evie, you need to calm down, hand over the gun and I promise you I will personally do everything I can to bring Liara to you."

"I've been missing for six months, Mum. Six fucking months!"

Even as Shepard spoke, the pistol slipped from her grasp. Hannah caught it before it fell to the floor. Wordlessly she handed it butt first to Corporal Meat-head standing behind her as her daughter finally relaxed and sagged into her arms. Hannah closed her eyes. She could not remember the last time she had held her daughter in such an intimate manner. _She was five years old. She'd skinned her knee running on the tarmac at some airfield on Earth. All she wanted to do was see the fighters..._

A rough hand suddenly grabbed Hannah by her upper arm and pulled her away from Evan. Hannah could only move aside as two marines pushed past and seized her limp daughter, forcing her roughly to the floor.

"Mum!"

The cry was plaintive, desperate. It was enough to drive Hannah close to tears. Dr Stone reached out a hand to help her to her feet. She straightened almost immediately, smoothing out the creases in her uniform as she stared at Evan still trying to fight back. "They're only trying to help you, honey."

Shepard could no longer see Hannah. All she saw was the red rage of betrayal. Even as she fought against the hands that held her, Shepard could not believe that her own mother was letting them treat her in this manner. Fingernails dug cruelly into her skin as she struggled. The Heller's sneering face loomed over her.

"Listen to me very closely. You're officially dead. You're not _The_ Shepard, you're not even _Commander_ Shepard, you're dead. You know what that means? We can do whatever we like to you."

Shepard felt the sharp stab of a needle pierce her skin and her attempts to struggle grew weaker.

"Li-" The whisper left her lips but all she could see as her vision folded in on her was Heller's sneer. _What kind of hell have I woken into? _

"You know, Shepard..." Heller was still talking as the drugs lulled her toward the darkness of unconsciousness. She fervently wished she had strength enough in her arm to ram the palm of her hand into his nose. "I once heard that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He was supposed to win it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. I guess that makes you the dumbest bastard of them all."


	3. And the Present is Trivia

**Chapter Three **  
**And the Present is Trivia**

**Macapá, Brazil**

_Of all the circumstances you could possibly be in at this point in your life, this is by far the most humiliating, _Miranda Lawson told herself as she slithered through the thick, cloying mud on her belly. Her keen hearing picked up the sound of a weapon tapping against the ceramic plates of a hardsuit up ahead. She instinctively ducked her head. The movement earned her a mouthful of mud. She could not even spit it out for fear of making a sound. _The Alliance might have let you stay on the _Normandy_ but you didn't even ask. You could have had relative comfort, reasonable hours and edible food, not to mention a live-in lover. _Whoever it was moving up ahead was doing a lousy job of remaining concealed. Miranda could hear not only the sound of movement, but also hoarse breathing of someone who was either out of shape, or terrified. _But no, instead you volunteered for this existence - crawling on your stomach through filth, being yelled at by meat-heads and living in a fucking communal bunkhouse._ Every night she collapsed on her rack, exhausted and far too close to a snoring recruit to even contemplate relieving the dull ache that crept between her legs when she thought about Ashley for more than ten seconds. _This hell is self-inflicted, Lawson. _

With excruciatingly careful movements, Miranda manoeuvred her rifle into a firing position. It was only when she trained it at the head for a killing blow that she caught the red flashes on the helmet and realised that the lousy excuse for a soldier was supposed to be on her team. If it had not already done so, the manner in which he was crashing through the undergrowth was sure to attract enemy attention. Miranda had already scoped out a Blue team pocket less than a dozen metres to the right of her position. Deciding that she could risk warning him, she levered herself out of the mud and rolled behind the scant protection offered by a nearby tree.

"Fisher!" she hissed in a low voice. "Get down!" The recruit's head jerked from side to side gormlessly as he searched for the source of the sound but he made no attempt to seek cover. Miranda growled inwardly and peered around the side of the tree so he could see her. "Fisher!"

The burly recruit's face broke into a relieved smile when he saw her. "Lawson? Thank fucking god. I thought I was out here on my-"

His shoulder was suddenly whipped backwards by the force of an electrical slug slamming into the training suit. Fisher was knocked down, his face contorted with pain as the jolts surged through his body. While the pain wasn't agonising, the practice slugs were supposed to incapacitate a recruit in a realistic manner. Fisher was currently rolling around in the mud, squealing as though he'd taken a real hit.

"Christ, is this shit supposed to hurt like this?" he demanded, clutching at his arm.

_Fuck._ The bleating fool was going to bring the entirety of Blue team down on top of them in a matter of seconds. Barred from using her biotics or tech powers within the training scenario, Miranda unloaded several slugs in the direction from which the shot had originated. She then scrambled forward and seized Fisher by the most accessible handhold available – the rim of his helmet. She dragged him backwards through the mud, hardly caring that the chin strap was probably digging into his flesh. As she moved, she cursed both Fisher and the Blue team meat-heads for being such crap shots. If they'd scored a killing blow in the first place, then she could have left Fisher shrieking in the mud and moved position without being detected.

"This is your fault, you stupid bitch!" Fisher accused. "You gave away my position!"

Miranda did not even dignify his accusation with a response as she dragged him behind a solid outcrop of rock. When she lifted her head and scanned for pursuers, several slugs passed overhead. She brought up her omni-tool. "This is Red five, Red nine is down in sector two. We're still half a klick west of the objective. Request fire support two points north of my position."

Less than ten seconds later, heavy electrical rounds suddenly crashed down practically on top of Miranda and Fisher's cover. With a flurry of expletives on her lips, Miranda dragged the other marine down a steep slope to their right, sliding several metres before they splashed to a halt in a stream bed.

Miranda turned to Fisher. "Okay, it's a flesh wound in your arm, you can walk," she informed him with cold efficiency. "I'm getting you back to our lines and finding out what the hell Mitchell is doing with this squad before we're cut to ribbons."

"It hurts!" Fisher protested.

For a moment Miranda felt sorry for him. The kid was barely eighteen, puppy fat still clinging to his saggy jowls. He'd lost most of his family when the Reapers hit the bread basket of the American Midwest. Then her mouth set into a grim line of determination. No one could afford to be that young or that soft anymore.

"On your feet, soldier!" she hissed in his face. It was then that she realised that Fisher wasn't carrying his assault rifle. "Where's your weapon?"

Fisher glanced around and eventually shrugged. "Dunno, must have lost it."

Miranda groaned yet again. _You chose this life, Lawson._ "Get going, I'll cover us."

Half an hour later, with Fisher's asthma starting to act up, Miranda prodded his sorry arse over the make shift barricade around Red team's stronghold. The kid collapsed, wheezing and demanding a drink of water from his squadmates. Although her own physical conditioning was exemplary, Miranda was nevertheless drained from having to lug Fisher's heavy-set body when he tried to give up. She could feel sweat making tracks through the dried mud on her face as their Squad Leader approached with a stormy expression on her face. Lisa Mitchell undoubtedly had potential, unfortunately she let her arrogance get in the way all too often. Mitchell's arrogance was only exceeded by Miranda's own, but she was close to perfection- the other recruit was not.

"Where the hell is the rest of my scout team?" Mitchell demanded.

"Probably escorting themselves off the battlefield as KIA," Miranda replied in acidic tones. "That lump you assigned as sub-team leader led them straight into opposition lines. I suggest reviewing your strategy to incorporate a little creativity instead of something you've learned out of the manual-" Miranda cut herself short, realising that her own attitude was not conducive to a productive squad relationship. She brought up a map of the terrain on her omni-tool. "Okay, I managed to get a good look at their positions…here, here and here. Blue's properly entrenched, their position's too static. I suggest if half the squad use this approach…here, we'll be able to flank them and drive them straight into the rest of the squad.

"Flushing movement?" Mitchell's eyebrows lifted hopefully.

"Precisely," Miranda agreed.

Mitchell grinned. "Okay, Lawson, you've got the flanking team. Let's show these Blue bastards that Red isn't going down without a fight."

Several hours later, Miranda was so exhausted it was all she could do to cling to the side of the M35 Mako as it made its way back towards base. Nevertheless, she was extremely grateful not to be one of the sorry sons-of-bitches who were slogging their way back through the mud on either side of the vehicle. The surviving members of Blue team jeered victoriously at their Red team opponents as they passed. Miranda couldn't even manage a grin as she shifted her mud encrusted carcass in an effort to find a more comfortable position. Overhead the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows on the ground. They'd been at manoeuvres since the previous morning – thirty-eight hours without sleep and only a couple of protein bars to eat. However the mood was quietly jubilant. Three more days – mostly consisting of formalities – and they would pass out of OCS. While Miranda was under no illusions that her new career would be easy post-graduation, she did at least hold out hope of having a space to herself – wherever the hell she was posted. Plus there was the prospect of an entire week's leave with the incredibly enticing Commander Williams.

"Hey, Lawson?"

Miranda was interrupted whilst dwelling on the memory of running her hand down the length of her lover's toned buttocks and thighs. She turned to see Mitchell looking toward her expectantly from her spot on the other side of the Mako. Sweat had plastered the recruit's short, dark blonde hair to her head. With her helmet off and much of the dirt scrubbed from her face, she looked impossibly young.

"I never thanked you for today," she admitted in a staunch voice. "Or any other day for that matter. From the start I thought you were this high and mighty bitch, but I've since realised that I've learned more from you than most of the instructors on this damn course."

With a small smile on her face, Miranda inclined in head in acknowledgement. "Thanks, Mitchell. You were right about one thing all along though...I am a bitch."

As Mitchell and a few of the other recruits laughed at Miranda's comment, the woman herself found a spot where she could lie back against the Mako's accelerator cannon and closed her eyes. The gentle whine of the engine and the relatively flat terrain as they neared base lulled her into a half-slumber.

"Lawson?" It was another of the recruits sitting immediately to her right. Miranda cocked an eye open to show that she was listening reluctantly. "Can you tell us about The Shepard? I mean, we hear all these stories in the news…but it's so…manufactured. We all know that you served on the _Normandy_. You actually knew her. What was she really like?"

"Do you think it's fucking story time, Ward?" she asked wearily. While it was no secret that she had been on the _Normandy _during the Battle for Earth, the rest of her past – Cerberus, the Lazarus Project, the Suicide Mission – was classified behind a mountain of red tape. At the start of OCS Miranda had been approached on several occasions with curious recruits asking questions about _The Shepard_. 'Fuck off' was the politest of her responses. However as she stared at Ward's earnest expression, and those of the other recruits, she relented with a small sigh. "Firstly, stop calling her that-"

"_The_ Shepard?" one of the recruits piped up.

Miranda glared. "Yes, her name is Shepard…" She paused as she dwelled on her use of the present tense. Her name _was_ Shepard. Did it matter? Nothing would change the fact that she was dead, but more than a part of Miranda wanted to hold onto her as she was in life. "The last thing Shepard would have wanted is a title, firstly because it singles her out as some sort of hero and secondly because it makes everyone else around her sound like a flock of sheep. She would have been the first to admit that she didn't do anything alone. Besides, Shepard was a spacer to the core – just like some of you - and I doubt she'd ever actually seen live sheep."

This drew another round of laughter. Miranda sat up a little straighter and realised that almost everyone sitting up top on the Mako, regardless of how tired they were, was paying attention to her as she spoke. _You're drawing far too much attention to yourself, Lawson_, she scolded. Still, it felt good to talk about Shepard. She'd tried with Ashley, but the marine always withdrew from the conversation – preferring silence over a possible emotional response.

"All the recruitment posters show her looking really serious," Mitchell piped up. "Did she ever smile?"

_Mostly for Liara_. Miranda had seen the SA recruitment posters - holographic advertisements employing young people to join up and help restore humanity in the wake of the Reaper War. Some featured Shepard alone, others depicted her leading a squad of human soldiers that bore absolutely no grounding in reality. The latest series that had emerged even used Ashley as one of their poster-soldiers – a fact which led to a string of expletives when her lover found out. _"They've made me look like a fucking vid actor, M, look at the size of my tits! Not to mention the fact that I'm carrying a Viper in one of them…a piece-of-shit Viper. When Vakarian finds out, he's going to have a field day!"_

Miranda eventually shrugged. "She was serious…and also, at times, pig-headed, stupid and emotionally stunted – your typical marine." More laughter, Miranda had to grin along with them. She had too many memories of Shepard being all of those things, often at the same time. "Occasionally she could be a sanctimonious arsehole…but she had a wicked sense of humour...and she looked absolutely fabulous in an evening dress."

"Seriously, Commander Shepard wore an evening dress?" Ward asked incredulously.

"I don't think you'll find those particular images anywhere on the extranet," Miranda added. "Shepard had them expunged from the _Normandy's_ records." _And Kasumi probably took the rest to her grave. _

"I heard rumours she was involved with that asari…what was her name?" Mitchell began.

Two recruits replied at once, "Liara T'Soni."

Mitchell nodded. "That's her…part of the original _Normandy _crew. Is that true?"

It was a simple enough question, but one that Miranda did not know how to respond to. They were entering the gates of the base as she stared outwards with a reflective expression. "Shepard was a very private person-"

"Commander Shepard would never have been involved with a damn squid," a recruit who had not previously been a part of the conversation spoke up. Miranda turned to look at her with narrow eyes. Her name was Newton - ordinarily she was quiet and kept to herself. "They were still hiding on Thessia while we were dying by the millions."

Several assenting responses echoed Newton's sentiments as Miranda looked around incredulously.

"Not to mention the fact that they've been keeping us out of galactic politics for years," Newton continued. "Ever seen those lab rats in a tube? That's exactly what humanity is like with the asari. They keep you distracted with their smiles and their tits, all the while they're bleeding humanity dry."

There was a chorus of responses as several recruits spoke over one another.

"But those tits!"

"It was The Shepard who saved the Galaxy, not the squids or any other goddamn alien."

Emboldened by the support she was receiving, Newton continued her tirade, "Fucking squids are nothing but whores -"

Without pausing to look at who had spoken, Miranda trussed the recruit up in a biotic field and left her dangling over one of the Mako's wheels. Her struggles to free herself only ended up with her helmet bouncing against the wheel as Miranda held her in place. Just the simple field was enough to tax her in her exhausted state.

"The asari, the krogan, turians, quarians…every race in the galaxy bled to stop the Reapers. Individuals like Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, Tali'Zorah, Mordin Solus, Legion, and Urdnot Grunt," Miranda felt her eyes burn as she rattled off the names of some of Shepard's squadmates…and she didn't even like all of them. "Those are the heroes who should be on those fucking recruitment posters, they are Shepard's family."

The Mako ground to a halt as they reached the depot. With a contemptuous shove, Miranda released the helpless recruit and she fell into the mud below. Without turning to look at any fellow recruits, she scrambled down from the Mako. A part of her regretted losing her temper, but she hoped that she had at least caused some of the meat-heads to reconsider their xenophobic views.

"Recruit Lawson!" Miranda looked up ahead to see one of the adjutants clearly waving at her. She frowned, knowing that it was much too soon for her little stunt to have reached the brass. "You're to report to Colonel Jian immediately."

As the adjutant walked away, Miranda looked down at herself. She was undeniably the filthiest she had ever been. It seemed as though half the mud in the jungle had tried to accompany her back to base. Her hardsuit was coated in the stuff, clinging to the crevices and flaking off as she moved. She doubted even Ashley would hug her in her present state.

With a detour only to scrub the mud and dried sweat from her face, Miranda found herself sitting outside Jian's office only a few minutes later. Since she had arrived at Macapá, she had virtually nothing to do with him other than observing him from a distance and helping herself to his dossier during one of her forays into the base's secure systems. His career seemed unremarkable up until the invasion, then he had led one of the most successful resistance movements in Asia. What was included in his dossier was largely irrelevant, Miranda was far more interested in what had been omitted – most notably that he had attended university with Charles Saracino, leader of the pro-human Terra Firma party. She was surprised that someone had taken the trouble to scrub such a tenuous link from his record.

_I guess this is the point where they say thanks for your efforts, but we've reconsidered your enlistment,_ Miranda mused. The prospect of returning to civilian life was no longer as attractive as it had once seemed. The likelihood of her being permitted to remain on board the _Normandy_ was slim and she had exhausted most of her resources during the war trying to stay one step ahead of her father. For all the multitude of disadvantages that enlistment brought, she had never felt such conviction that she could do something worthwhile with her life. _Well, I was responsible for the success of the Lazarus Project, so technically…I saved the Galaxy._ Miranda smirked at the thought of an ex-terrorist on the SA recruitment posters.

The smirk disappeared from her face when she was invited into Jian's office. The Colonel himself was seated behind his desk and did not look up when she saluted smartly. A female Captain was standing slightly to the right. Miranda unfortunately could not study her without making her scrutiny overly obvious.

"I see congratulations are in order Second-Lieutenant Lawson. The highest scores ever achieved by a recruit at OCS." Jian still did not look up from the data pad he was reviewing in front of him.

"I would have expected nothing less of myself, Colonel," Miranda replied honestly. There was no hint of arrogance in her voice, much as there had been several years earlier when Shepard had accused her of being cocky during one of their earliest discussions.

"Although several of your instructors note that you have been disruptive," Jian pointed out.

_Disruptive? That is putting it mildly_, Miranda thought. "Yes sir." She kept her response brief as opposed to explaining how difficult it was to follow the orders of individuals who were younger, less experienced and infinitely less intelligent than she was.

"Why did you join Cerberus, _Recruit_ Lawson?" the Captain's sudden intrusion on the conversation was blunt.

Miranda was finally able to turn and look at the woman. Her accent combined with dark black hair and bronze skin indicated that she was a native of Brazil. There was an obsidian-like quality to both her stare and her tone, but Miranda did not flinch.

"The Illusive Man hand-picked me for my abilities…my talents. It seemed the sort of organisation in which someone like me could make a real difference. They had the resources, I used them," Miranda explained. "At that time Cerberus was acting in humanity's best interests and I still maintain that-"

"Binthu, Pragia, Sigma-23?" The Captain added in a flinty tone.

Miranda stiffened imperceptibly. "Rogue cells-"

"And Akuze, Recruit? Evidence strongly suggests that Cerberus was behind the thresher maw attack which wiped out the 82nd apart from Gunnery Chief Shepard."

"I fail to see where this line of questioning is going," Miranda replied hotly. She was shattered after the exercise and it was difficult to keep her temper in check.

"Do you still have ties to Cerberus?"

"Absolutely none. When I resigned from Cerberus after helping Shepard defeat the Collectors I was black-listed and hunted by my former employer. I should think my war record speaks for itself when it comes to my current loyalties."

The Captain's expression did not waiver for a moment, even when Miranda cast a quick glance toward Jian. The Colonel appeared unfazed by the line of questioning, to the point that he still had not bothered to look up at her. Miranda kept her mouth shut and remained content with imagining the startled look on the other woman's face when she was hurled out the window by a biotic throw.

"And where do those current loyalties lie? To the Systems Alliance…or the cult of Shepard?"

"The cult?" Miranda frowned. "Don't be absurd. Shepard was a remarkable woman…but she was just that, one woman. The restoration of Earth and its colonies as a whole lie in the hands of the Alliance, as well as its counterparts throughout the Galaxy. Thessia, Palaven…Tuchanka – Shepard forged those alliances during the war, more often than not with her own blood and the blood of her-"

"Relax, Lawson," Jian finally spoke up. His face creased into a smile. "Captain Alves is guilty of being a little over zealous at times-"

_Alves?_ Miranda had to avoid frowning when she heard the name. _That sounds familiar._

"-rest assured, we are not questioning your loyalty or your future in the SA," Jian continued. "I just wanted to congratulate you prior to passing out and say that we're damned lucky to have you on our side. Dismissed, Lawson."

As Miranda saluted and turned to leave, Cristiane Alves watched her carefully. She waited until the door had closed and Miranda's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor before turning back to face Jian. Instead of speaking immediately, she crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. She clasped her hands behind her back in a contemplative pose.

"Clearly her sympathies are contrary to what we expected," Jian spoke first. Disappointment registered in his voice.

Alves kept her face an impassive mask. "No…I had my suspicions about Lawson. She was far too close to the late Commander Shepard and the motley gang of outcasts she called her _crew_. I feared she would be useless to us."

"You disagree with the decision to allow her to enlist? Should we rescind her commission?" Jian asked.

"When you've just congratulated her?" Alves sneered. "How would that look to the rest of the intake?"

Jian was slightly irritated at being spoken to in such a fashion by a mere Captain. He straightened in his chair but he still felt as though he was being spoken down to. "What are your recommendations then?"

"Send her to one of the frontier outposts, Ontarom…or, probably more appropriate, Mindoir," Alves suggested.

"The woman has three doctorates and you're talking about shipping her off to a backwater colony like some mere grunt?" Jian bristled.

Alves shrugged. "It's either that or get rid of her now which I would advise strongly against doing. Lawson was on the bridge of the _Normandy_ throughout the Battle for Earth. If you asked most civilians, they'd consider her a hero, not knowing or caring that she was with Cerberus. Send her to Mindoir, it might help drive recruitment and it will put her in a position where she can't cause any dissention." Alves then frowned thoughtfully. "Assign her to the same unit as the other one."

Jian's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Sure we wouldn't deliberately place two of Shepard's known associates together?"

"I have it on good authority that the two of them can't stand each other. With any luck they'll tear each other to pieces." A self-satisfied smirk crept onto Alves' face. "We'll be rid of both without having to lift a finger. I just wish I could see the expression on Lawson's face when she finds out."

* * *

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

The door to the main battery swished open. The noise was subtle but it was enough to startle someone who had his most of his ungainly body wedged in between pieces of technology.

"Spirits!" Garrus cursed in pain.

"No one could ever accuse you of being flexible," Tali'Zorah vas Normandy joked as she entered the narrow space. "The real question of course is how did you get your fat head to fit into that narrow gap in the first place?"

Her boots made crisp sounds on the gangway as she marched toward her lover. Garrus turned to give her a wounded look as he rubbed at the crest of horns on his head. It was difficult for him to summon up any hint of annoyance in Tali's comforting presence. Any pain he felt diminished quickly as she beckoned him to lower his head. He had to suppress his un-Turian sigh of delight when her gloved fingers began to stroke the spines and downwards over his forehead and temples. Weeks of stress faded away beneath her gentle ministrations. It required a conscious effort on his part not to appear disappointed when her touch disappeared a few minutes later.

"I could do with a little more of that," he admitted.

When Tali placed her hands firmly on her hips, he could tell that she was giving him a long, hard stare behind her mask. He could see the faint glow of her eyes and knew that they were slightly narrowed. _Spirits, I know I'm in trouble when she gives me that look._

"You haven't spoken to Ash, have you?" she asked.

Garrus' mandibles lowered a little. "As soon as my shift ends-"

"Don't pull that on me, Vakarian. I have your duty rosters memorized and I know for a fact that your shift was over seventeen minutes ago." She levelled her finger at his chest. "And don't even mention the 'c' word to me. It's not half as endearing as it used to be."

"Tali-"

"You promised, Garrus!" she interrupted. "We'll be in contact with the _Moray_ and Admiral Raan tomorrow. Are you going to wait until we're leaving to explain things to the Commander?"

"Not exactly…"

Tali's stance shifted into one that resembled sympathy. She extended her hand and laid it against his broad chest. Wearing clothes as opposed to his hardsuit, she could feel the muscles rippling even through her gloves. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Garrus shook his head. "No…and yes. Ash needs us. We're just adding to the crewmembers who have abandoned the Normandy – Miranda, Javik, Liara, if we go too…"

"The Reapers have been defeated, our reason for being on the _Normandy_ in the first place. I know we both think of this ship as home, but first and foremost it's still a human military vessel." Tali said the words reluctantly.

No one on board the _Normandy _resented their presence, but she felt a strong desire to leave on her own terms before she was told to. Miranda's reasons for leaving had been straightforward enough. She had some delusions that she ought to officially join the human military. While Tali felt sympathy for Ashley, she had never really seen eye to eye with Miranda Lawson – for all the changes she had undergone, she was still the Cerberus bitch with a rod up her arse. Javik had departed for Thessia only a few weeks after the end of the war. He felt he owed some continued loyalty to the asari, and his ingrained distrust of Ashley meant that he could not accept her authority in the way he had accepted Shepard's.

The one crewmember whose departure Tali had not been able to understand was Liara's. She missed her presence almost as much as she missed Shepard. It had been Liara who had patiently listened while she tried to explain the strange feelings that she was having in response to Garrus and had held her when she refused to accept the truth that she was in love with him. Now Tali could not imagine her life without the dry-humoured Turian, and Liara was out there alone.

As Garrus watched, she reached up and carefully unclipped her face mask so she could stare at him with her own eyes for a few moments. His expression softened when she let it fall. She wanted desperately to kiss him, even just a brief peck on the cheek so she could feel his rough skin against her lips. However it was the difference between a simple cold and a severe infection. After an entire shift, Garrus' skin would potentially be host to any number of hazardous bacteria.

"You need to talk to her," Tali repeated softly, her voice sounding different without processors.

"I'll go now," Garrus murmured. A sigh escaped his lips when she replaced her mask all too soon. "And I'm sorry for my reluctance. I meant what I said when I promised to join you on Rannoch. I want to share in the rebuilding of your homeworld…it's just that I feel guilty that I have such a future to look forward to."

Without replying with words, Tali slipped into his arms and moulded the hard lines of her suit into the sharp angles of his body. It seemed as though it should be impossible for them to fit together as well as they did. Although Tali knew that there had once been a point in her life where she had imagined herself finding another Quarian to spend her life with, she found it difficult to recall such a time. Now there was only Garrus Vakarian – complete with his scars, dry wit that often wasn't remotely funny and his obsession with perfection. She could only hope that there was something worthwhile for him to calibrate on Rannoch.

Garrus eased himself out of Tali's embrace. The two of them walked as far as the elevator together. "EDI, where is Commander Williams?" the Turian asked.

_{Commander Williams is in her quarters,}_ EDI replied immediately. _{She has been awake for thirty minutes, but her behaviour has been… lethargic.}_

Garrus shared a look with Tali. "Hungover," they said in unison. Garrus nodded and continued, "I'll make coffee."

The welcome Garrus received when he knocked on the door to the Crow's Nest ten minutes later was subdued. There was no answer to his hail, nevertheless the door unlocked and he was admitted. The lights inside were dimmed low and it took his eyes a few moments to adjust as he looked around. Given the scarcity of available resources, the Crow's Nest had not been refitted to suit the tastes of its new occupant. The fish tank was still to his left as he entered, although it was completely devoid of both fish and water. The empty glass box looked nothing short of depressing. Shepard's model collection had been completely untouched – every carefully collected item was mounted in the same place he remembered. Garrus crossed to the display, studying them with a fond eye as he remembered Shepard consulting him on the colour scheme for the Turian frigate. He did not linger long, instead carefully carrying the steaming mug of coffee down to where Ashley Williams sat on the sofa with her head in her hands. On the table in front of her were two glasses and an empty bottle of human alcohol.

"Late night, Ash?" he asked as he took a seat. He held the mug close to the ailing commander so the invigorating smell could waft to her nostrils.

Ashley jerked her head up almost immediately. Her haggard face brightened considerably when she saw his gift. "Garrus you wonderful, wonderful Turian, I could kiss you right now."

"I won't tell Miranda if you don't tell Tali," Garrus said with a wink.

The Commander would have smiled, if she didn't think the simple movement would hurt her head. Instead she gratefully accepted the coffee. Her sip was accompanied by a very satisfied slurp and rounded off with a sigh.

"This coffee tastes like absolute crap." Her words did not mirror her reaction. "Why couldn't Shepard have had a stash of the good stuff?" Both Ash and Garrus knew full well that Shepard loathed the taste of coffee.

There was a sudden loud snort from the direction of the bed. Garrus looked up to realise that a small shape was curled up in the middle of Ashley's bed. Even as he frowned, the snort developed into full throated snores that sounded as though they ought to have emerged from a much larger creature.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Ash?" Garrus asked, observing that she appeared unbothered by the fact that there was someone, who obviously wasn't Miranda, in her bed.

"Traynor and I polished off that bottle of scotch at the end of our shift. Her claims about being able to handle her alcohol were greatly exaggerated." Ashley smirked. "When she passed out I dumped her in my bed, less likely to cause tongues to wag than carrying her back to her own bunk. And I felt sorry for her I guess. I didn't even realise she'd been pulling double shifts all week. It seems to me that the XO ought to bring matters like that to my attention." Ashley watched Garrus over the rim of her cup as she took another sip.

"She made me promise not to tell you-"

"Garrus, whether she's your friend or not, Traynor's still an NCO, she doesn't get to dictate terms to the XO!" Ashley reprimanded him in the sternest tone she could manage.

"We're under-strength, Ash. Half the crew are pulling double shifts and their Commander is not setting any sort of example. Your shift was up when we returned from the drop to Eden Prime – you pulled twelve hours solid groundside and another eight once we were back on the ship. Who's going to tell you to sort yourself out once I'm gone?"

There was a pregnant silence in the air when Garrus finished his sentence. "So you are leaving?" Ashley remarked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Rannoch?"

Garrus confirmed with a nod and Ashley suddenly became very interested in her coffee. She drained half of the cup and spent a great deal of time staring at the dregs before she said anything. "I'll be sorry to see you both go."

Garrus snorted. "You can admit it, Ash. After that stunt earlier, you'll be pleased to see the back of me. You were right, you know - we don't know what the hell Shepard would have done if she were still here."

"She'd probably be too busy making blue kids with Liara to care about the _Normandy _anyway," Ashley quipped sadly.

"Can you imagine her as a parent?" Garrus shook his head in disbelief.

"She always had enough trouble feeding and washing herself," Ashley replied, a broad smile forming on her face when she recalled Shepard's magnetic propensity to attract dirt. "Nor can I imagine her trying to do baby talk…"

Ashley's voice trailed off sadly. Somehow Garrus had tricked her into talking about the one subject she consciously tried to avoid. Miranda had often tried, but she had developed into the master of changing the subject or feigning disinterest. She wasn't sure why she reacted in such a manner, especially when Shepard was constantly on her mind. Some days, the Commander was the only subject she wanted to talk about.

"I miss her, Garrus," she admitted quietly. "I've lost comrades before – the entire two-twelve was slaughtered around me and that still hurts three years later – but the Skipper was different…more than just a superior officer or a fellow marine. I guess, in thinking about it, she was like another sister. I know I've already got three, but she was the infuriatingly smug older sister I never had. The sister I tried to emulate despite falling short in every single way."

"Shepard wouldn't say you fell short," Garrus added. "She would be damn proud of you."

When tears burned in Ashley's eyes, she realised exactly why she avoided the subject. Even over six months after the Day of Days, the wound was still just as raw as it was at the moment the corona of heat and flame from the Crucible had slammed into Liara's barrier. Instinctively she reached for the bottle of scotch only to remind herself that it was empty and it was the reason for the dull ache behind her eyes.

"I won't be pleased to see the back of you, Garrus…or Tali, but I do wish you all the best." Ashley refused to scrub at her eyes, preferring to let a couple of errant tears track down her cheeks.

"Don't act like this is a permanent goodbye, Williams," Garrus reproached her in a gentle voice. "You're not getting rid of us forever."

"Damn." Ashley chuckled.

Ashley and Garrus were interrupted by a groan from the bed. The pair looked up to see Specialist Samantha Traynor sitting on the bed with her head in her hands. Her hair was sticking up at a number of interesting angles. When Ashley cleared her throat, the Specialist peered anxiously through her fingers.

"Oh god, I don't normally have an audience when I wake up," Traynor said in a mortified tone. She glanced around and her eyes widened when she realised that she was still in the Crow's Nest. "This cannot possibly be worse."

"Don't worry, Traynor," Ashley said. "You snore very…prettily."

* * *

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

"Shepard!"

The abrupt violence of Liara's waking moments caused her weight to slide off the side of her bed. She landed hard on the freezing floor amidst a tangle of sweat soaked sheets. Rather than pick herself up, she lay in the cold with the sweat rapidly cooling to chill her to the bone. The cold was of very little consequence. _Goddess._ Crying out her dead lover's name as she woke was the first time Liara had spoken it aloud for months. In unconsciously breaking her own, harsh rule, Liara opened the floodgates on a torrent of emotional pain. As she lay on the floor, Shepard and her recurring dream became the sole focal point of her thoughts.

The dream had been virtually the same every night for the past week – the only changes being her increasingly emotional waking moments. Every morning she woke feeling drained and exhausted to the point where she wondered why she bothered sleeping at all.

In her dream she found herself inside the Crucible alongside Shepard. It was what she had so desperately wanted that day in London – to be with Shepard at the end. However her subconscious mind took Lucy Park's description of the actual events and twisted them into something altogether more grotesque and agonising. Every night, as she watched in helpless terror, the Catalyst was ripped from Shepard's chest while it was still fused with her beating heart. Even awake, Liara could remember the sickening, sucking sound of blood and the tearing of flesh. Despite the mangled pulp of her heart no longer residing within her chest, Shepard somehow remained alive. Her blue eyes were open, pleading with Liara to do something to make the pain stop. Short of killing Shepard herself, there was absolutely nothing she could do other than hold her hand and offer hollow reassurances. There was now nothing that Liara could do to convince herself that the dream was not reality. As far as she knew, that was precisely how Shepard had died – except that she had been alone at the end.

When she eventually worked her way out of the sheets, Liara was too cold to bother with a shower. Instead she dragged on the same clothes she had worn the day before over her chilled limbs. She had remained on the floor for so long that her fingers were almost numb.

Switching onto autopilot, Liara padded her way to the kitchen. However as she stood in front of her food stores, the thought of eating made her want to vomit before a bite had passed her lips. When Liara found herself in front of her work-station, she did not remember walking the steps necessary to be in that position. Almost every screen demanded her attention in some form or another - from something as simple as authorising a payment, to backing the destabilisation of a potentially dangerous regime that had emerged on Tuchanka. Liara lifted her fingers and poised them above the haptic interface. All that was required was a slight twitch of each finger to commence, but she remained inert.

"Shepard." The whisper left her lips for no reason other than that she wanted to say the name deliberately. Almost as soon as her lips and tongue worked around the familiar syllables, she could not stop herself. "Commander. Evangeline. Shepard. Evan."

She dropped her arms to her side and her head slumped forward. For the past months, her routine and her strict rules had held her life together like glue – it offered stability and purpose. Now that it had begun to unravel, she struggled to feel an affinity with that purpose. Nothing had changed the indirect benevolence of the Shadow Broker's manipulations, what had changed was her desire to care about any of it. What was the good in rebuilding a world where hope did not exist?

Liara forced her body away from the console. The movement was such that it was as though some invisible force had grabbed her from behind and dragged her backwards. With awkward, jerky movements she followed the thick cables that trailed along the floor to her intended destination. Before she could dwell further on what she was about to do, her trembling fingers closed around the main power cable. With a vice-like grip she depressed the release handle. Steeling herself for just a moment, Liara yanked it out with savage finality. With the audible and instant power loss, the bank of monitors went dark. The haptic display on the console winked out and died altogether. As Liara slumped back onto her haunches, the once frenetic equipment sat silent and dead in front of her. With one movement, she had effectively done what others could only dream of doing. She had destroyed the Shadow Broker.

Unable to dwell on what she had just done, Liara found herself fleeing for the outdoors as she had done all too often over the past days. This time however she did not bother with the coat, dragging on only a pair of boots.

The winter sunshine outside was bright enough to make her squint, however it held little warmth. She shielded her eyes as she turned to regard the external walls of her home. Almost perfectly blended with the surrounding trees and jagged rock, little could be seen from the outside other than the sweeping curved windows set into the thermocrete bunker. A bank of solar panels was camouflaged to appear like a part of the tree canopy. As Liara stared at her home, she did not see a sanctuary, she saw a prison. That this was a prison of her own making did not matter.

When a blue of movement caught the corner of her eye, she dismissed it as local wildlife. It was only when she heard actual words that something inside her triggered to the presence of another individual.

"Hello there!"

The words were simple and innocuous, yet Liara responded with immediate, unrestrained fury. Barely turning around to mark her target, she launched herself across the distance. She felt the fierce thrill of the biotic charge for the first time since Omega. Her blood raced as her hands tightened around the throat of a human. Last time, she had ripped it out…this time she squeezed. As she felt a pulse thumping desperately beneath her fingers, Liara wanted nothing more than to laugh.

Gradually the exhilaration of the violence faded. As her senses cleared, Liara was left with the stark realisation that she was murdering an innocent man. She saw the desperation in his eyes, his lips peeled back as he struggled to breathe and knew that she had made a terrible mistake. Her grip slackened and he immediately slumped to his knees. As he knelt, he drew in a great, sucking breath. Liara reeled backwards, tripped and fell on her back.

When she picked herself up into a sit, she stared at the human male standing in front of her. Liara could see that he was relatively advanced in years according to the basic senescence of humans – his face was lined and the hair on his head, although thick, was completely silver in colour. While he wore a thick jacket to protect his upper body against the cold, he wore something that humans called _shorts_ to cover his lower body. Between his thick woolen socks and the bottom of his shorts, his muscles knees were bare. He carried a large backpack that looked as though it weighed as much as he did.

As he regained his feet, his expression left her confused and sick to her stomach. For someone who had been on the receiving end of a biotic charge and subsequently choked, he appeared remarkably calm. This unnerved Liara more than if he had responded with anger and violence.

"I am sorry," Liara whispered. Her voice was thick with shame as she scrambled to her feet. She started backing away slowly. "I am so sorry."

He held up both hands in a calming gesture and smiled. The response only served to make her feel even worse.

"It's okay, kid. Being stuck up here by yourself would be enough to make anyone a little homicidal…as beautiful as it is."

In between bristling at being called a _kid _by someone who was probably half her age and marvelling that he could make a joke about murder, Liara realised his accent reminded her of Miranda's. It was less nasal but with mangled consonants and muddied words that were initially difficult for Liara to understand.

When she did not reply, he continued, "The name's Peter Massey. I was employed by T'Loak's people to bring your supplies up here. Usually when I see you outside I wait until you've gone back inside…I don't know what came over me today. I guess I just felt like saying hi. Wrong choice!" He grinned again as though it had all been some silly joke. "Now I'm just going to take this pack off and get your stuff out. I'd really appreciate it if you don't start up with those biotics of yours again."

As Liara watched, he swung the pack down from his back with a relieved sigh. It took him only a minute to unstrap it, rummage around inside and withdraw two of the light containers Liara was used to retrieving from the supply cache outside her compound. She wanted to say something, to ask how he had ended up working for Aria and what the hell he was doing in this place, but at the same time she could not bring herself to speak. Instead she stared as he set her supplies down in front of her and began re-strapping his pack.

When it was resettled on his shoulders, he straightened and looked towards the direction from which he had just come. "I'd better be starting back. It was real nice to have met you…say, I never did get your name." He paused for a moment, but Liara did not offer it in response. Eventually he just grinned again and started backing away. "I'll try to be less intrusive in the future."

Although she had said barely a word to him, Liara watched the human leave for as long as she could see the bright red of his backpack bobbing through the trees. When all trace was gone – sight and sound – aside from the supplies at her feet, she felt distinctly bereft.

"My name is Liara T'Soni," she whispered as she slumped downwards once again. She landed hard on the cold earth. "I used to be the Shadow Broker…now I am nothing."


	4. A Warm Place with no Memory

**Chapter Four **  
**A Warm Place with no Memory**

**Location Withheld**

There were few sounds in the room other than the steady beep emitted by one of the monitoring machines and the almost imperceptible sound of the woman in front of her breathing in her sleep. Dr Naomi Stone's soft footsteps led her directly to the side of the narrow bed where she stopped and stared down at Shepard. In sleep, all traces of the violence that had been evident following her awakening several days earlier had disappeared. Her dark lashes lay softly against her smooth, pale skin. The woman looked impossibly young – much too young to be the Hero of the Citadel and Saviour of Humanity. _And fragile, _Stone mused as she noted the way Shepard's lips were parted slightly as she slept. A few strands of hair had worked their way over her face. Without thinking, the doctor reached out and smoothed them back behind her ear. The silken strands flowed between her fingers. Her fingers moved downwards, pressing gently against the soft skin of Shepard's face. Enjoying the touch, she could not resist pressing her entire hand against the side of her face and making gentle sweeping motions with her thumb. The unconscious woman startled her for a moment when she leaned into the touch. Stone did not remove her hand. Instead a small smile creased her face and she grew bolder. The pads of her fingers trailed lower, brushing against the tender flesh of Shepard's lips.

"How is our guest today, Dr Stone?"

This time Stone did jerk her hand away. She whirled around to find her colleague, Dr Bryan Heller, standing in the doorway behind her.

"Vitals stable…although she is somewhat restless compared with yesterday," Stone replied, doing her best to keep her tone neutral as her fellow doctor entered the room. "I would suggest bringing her back out soon."

"Yes, well, thank you for your opinion, but I'm not in a hurry to have a repeat of the last little incident," Heller reminded her in an acidic voice. "I didn't particularly enjoy having a weapon shoved in my face."

_I enjoyed you with a weapon in your face_, Stone tried to keep traces of a grin from creeping onto her lips. "We've kept her under for four days already, Heller," she protested quietly. "I have no more tests to run on her in this state. I want her awake and responsive."

"I'll send the request up the chain." Heller did not sound overly enthusiastic. He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed as Stone regarded him with a closed expression. Heller wasn't looking at her any longer, he too was staring down at Shepard. As he studied the unconscious woman, he cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "How could one woman survive so much? If I was a religious man, I would say that someone up above has a serious hard on for Shepard."

"Her survival has nothing to do with god or whatever hokey ancient religion you want to believe in," Stone pointed out in a methodical tone. "Shepard is amazing…in fact, she's beyond amazing. What Cerberus did to her when they rebuilt her following the Alchera incident, it's light years beyond any technology that the Alliance possess. In rebuilding her, Cerberus was able to make unheard of improvements to the types of upgrade packages we offer to Alliance soldiers. We're not just talking about eyesight corrections and strength enhancers, she has synthetic fabric actually woven into her bones, rendering them virtually unbreakable. Something similar has been done to her muscles and with a micro-fibre weave enhancing both strength and durability – probably somewhere between thirty to fifty percent above average. Although her muscles were severely atrophied when we recovered her, they're regenerating at an unprecedented rate. Even without proper nutrition."

"Impressive, but surely not advanced enough to explain her survival of the Crucible's destruction…or that tech on her arm?" Heller commented.

Stone shook her head. "No, that I think can be explained by this…"

She pulled up a multi-dimensional scan that she had carried out shortly after Shepard's arrival at the facility. "See those fine white lines, that's the synthetic tech…however something has grafted itself to those structures on an atomic level…throughout her entire body. Notably around her heart." Stone moved the view on the diagnostic tool so that she could show Heller the scan of Shepard's heart. The outlines of the same crystalline material that made up her lower left arm, could clearly be seen on the walls of the organ. "It's the Catalyst…it clearly saved her life. As you can probably extrapolate, it was responsible for re-growing her lower arm and hand."

"Have you taken a sample?" Heller asked.

Stone shook her head. "I tried, however the substance is impenetrable…even for diamond-tipped cutting instruments."

"She truly is a marvel," Heller commented sarcastically.

Stone narrowed her eyes. "She is! Not forgetting of course that you argued against her retention in the first place."

Heller appeared unconcerned by the accusations in her tone. He simply shrugged. "You understand the consequences if word of her survival gets out. You know full well what kind of person Shepard is and where her sympathies lie. It could undermine everything we're working for-"

"Quit it, Heller," Stone muttered as she abruptly shut down her omni-tool. "You don't need to preach to me."

"Good," Heller said as he turned his attention to the unconscious woman lying in front of him. He also reached down and pressed his palm against Shepard's cheek. However where Stone's touch had been gentle, he gave the skin a sharp slap. Shepard did not wake. "I'll take your request up the chain…let's see if we can wake your little lab rat up so you can play with her."

"I believe the term is _study_, Dr Heller," Stone stressed.

Heller lifted his eyebrows for a moment. He turned and made his way toward the door. "Call it what you will."

Stone breathed a sigh of relief when Heller left the room. It wasn't that she loathed his company, although he was particularly unlikeable, she just preferred to be alone with Shepard. In all truth, a part of her had been chagrined that Shepard had not shown the slightest recognition when she woke. There had been absolutely nothing in her blank gaze, and then she had started asking for that asari. However in the subsequent days, she had assuaged her fears with the knowledge that Shepard had been confused and frightened. Stone was determined that next time she would be able to calm the woman more effectively.

She turned her attention back to Shepard, relieved to find that the red mark left by Heller's hand had already faded. With her heartbeat fluttering in an unruly manner inside her chest, she lowered her mouth close to Shepard's ear. "You must learn to accept your situation, my dear Evan, for both our sakes."

* * *

**Earth's Orbit, Sol System**

The undeniably familiar visual of the planet Earth gradually loomed larger across the canopy of the _Normandy's _cockpit. Although the planet had never been her own home, Ashley Williams nevertheless felt a strong affinity for humanity's home world. In the wake of the Reaper War, it had come to represent everything that they had fought to preserve. For the crew of the _Normandy_ it represented what they had lost on a much more personal level - it was where Shepard had died.

Shifting slightly in the co-pilot's chair that EDI's physical body had once occupied, Ashley found the first twinges of nervousness starting to creep into the pit of her stomach. She put it down to a combination of exhaustion and overwork – or at least that was what she told herself when she had almost starting blubbing like an FNG when Garrus and Tali departed a few days ago with the Quarian ship – the _Moray_. At the first signs of trouble – a trembling lip and burning eyes - it had taken every ounce of her willpower not to give over to a storm of tears. Ashley managed to hold herself together until she was away from prying eyes in the Crow's Nest. With the help of several glasses of scotch, she'd allowed herself to give into the grief. What emerged wasn't just the fresh pain of losing Garrus and Tali, she finally acknowledged the unhealed wounds that had lingered for months. The next morning she had appeared on deck calm, composed and ready to face a _Normandy_ without two of its most familiar residents.

Ashley discreetly smoothed the sweaty palms of her hands against her trousers. Beside her, Joker appeared to be too busy concentrating on their approach to spot his Commander's nerves. She noted that there were a number of ships in orbit, all Alliance – she could not see a single Council ship which she found slightly odd.

"How do you like the view, Commander?" Joker asked. He did not turn to look at her as his attention remained focused on the haptic displays in front of him.

"Amazing," Ashley responded honestly. "I'm seriously considering making this my permanent station."

"Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am…but please don't," Joker replied. "It's bad enough with EDI constantly making comments on my flying skills, let alone having my commanding officer looking over my shoulder as well."

_{My comments are merely helpful suggestions formulated to provide advice and improve your overall flying technique,}_ EDI added. _{It is my reasoning that you will become less reckless if offered appropriate alternatives.}_

Joker gave Ashley a quick glance so she could see him roll his eyes. "See what I have to put up with?" The complaint was given in a fond tone that completely negated his protests.

"Don't worry, Joker. My place is on the CIC, that won't be changing anytime soon," Ashley reassured him. "Unless of course Alliance brass decides that someone else will do a better job of commanding the _Normandy._"

The pilot responded with a snort of derision. "Good luck getting her crew to accept that bullshit!" Their eyes met again for a brief moment. Ashley gave her pilot a stern, level stare but he did not appear in the slightest bit apologetic for his words.

Ashley sighed and turned her attention back to Earth. "Whatever happens, we will be seeing a few new faces around here. I need a new XO for starters, a couple of junior officers and at least a full squad of marines."

"Junior officers, huh? Say, don't we know someone who graduated from OCS the other day?" Joker pointed out in an amused voice.

Ashley could not allow herself to share the pilot's amusement. "Second-Lieutenant Lawson will not be joining the crew-"

"Re-joining, ma'am," he interrupted. "_Re_-joining. We've had our differences in the past, but Miranda Lawson is as much a part of this ship as you or I."

"I know what you mean, Joker, but I cannot function with that woman on my ship."

"And I know exactly what _you_ mean!" Joker added enthusiastically. However when he turned to share the joke with the Commander, he found her regarding him with a look that said she was only a few seconds away from finding a creative way to make him suffer. "Sorry, ma'am."

"I don't know how you know the things you know, Flight Lieutenant," Ashley commented in a strict tone. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your knowledge to yourself. There are some things that I would rather keep private." For all Ashley's sincere feelings regarding Miranda, she did not think that the Alliance brass would react well to such fraternisation with a junior officer…not to mention one with a checkered past. As to what that was going to bode for their future, Ashley preferred not to dwell on that.

"Yes, ma'am," Joker replied in a relieved voice. A light flashed on his console to indicate an incoming message. "Uh, Commander, it looks like we've got an incoming docking request…damn, it's from the SSV _Tai Shan_…Fleet Admiral Kessler requesting permission to board. Err, Commander, you might want to go and dig out your dress blues."

"You have got to be shitting me," Ashley slammed her palm down on the armrest of her chair. However when she leaned forward, she could see the unmistakable silhouette of the Alliance dreadnought, SSV _Tai Shan_, flagship of Fleet Admiral Hans Kessler, coming up on their starboard side. With most of Normandy's communiques coming through Hackett in the past, Ashley had never met the man. He was largely an unknown quantity, although she had heard that he was a traditionalist and a stickler for discipline. "Looks like we'll all be waiting a little longer for that shore leave."

Twenty minutes later, feeling like a well-dressed turkey, Ashley waited near the _Normandy's _airlock. Her sweaty palms had returned tenfold. However, in addition to the nerves, she felt a gnawing twinge of annoyance at the delay to her shore-leave. They had already passed the scheduled time when they were supposed to be docking at the space port in Melbourne, Australia. Ashley was buttoned up in her dress blues, standing at attention, when she ought to have been dragging on her civvies. _Dammit, M_, she thought as the airlock warning light switched to green. _You'll have to be patient for a little while longer_. She cast a quick glance down the line of crewmembers in the greeting party. When she caught Sam Traynor's disgruntled expression, it conveyed exactly how displeased she was at being chosen for the privilege.

"Look sharp, Traynor," Ashley admonished gently. "We all have to do our bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the Specialist replied in a tight voice.

Ashley was expecting Fleet Admiral Kessler to be one of the first through the doors, however an ANN cameraman and reporter beat him through so they could establish the perfect shot of him boarding the _Normandy_. The opening shot caught Ashley with a scowl on her face. No one had warned her about reporters. She had only seconds to wipe it before the stern visage of the man himself strode onto the deck. Ashley and her surrounding officers and crew snapped smartly to attention, returning his salute in unison. The Fleet Admiral was a heavy-set man, and much younger than she had expected. His dress uniform strained against his barrel-like chest. Ashley did not think that any of his bulk was fat. Although his face was fixed into a sincere mask for the cameras, she found nothing but granite in the grey eyes that peered out beneath his thick black eyebrows.

"Commander Williams!" He extended his hand, pumping it once in a firm gesture. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you…and step aboard the _Normandy_ for the first time."

Ashley flexed her crushed fingers discreetly when they were released. She was all too aware of the camera hovering just above her shoulder. It took all her energy to resist the urge to turn around and swat it away. "Welcome aboard, sir. It is an honour."

"Nonsense, the honour is all mine!" Kessler turned to a rather striking female officer standing at his side. "I'd like to introduce you to my aide-de-camp, Captain Cristiane Alves."

"Ma'am," Ashley saluted again as the woman responded with a small smile. As hard as she tried not to look, she had to admit that Alves filled out her uniform very well indeed. Her glossy black hair was styled short in a cut that accented her dark skin and well-proportioned features. Feeling slightly guilty for her appreciative reaction, Ashley set her mouth into tight, determined line. "Welcome aboard also."

"It is a beautiful ship, Commander Williams," Alves practically purred in a rather sensuous accent. "Simply beautiful."

Ashley thought she caught an odd flicker in the other woman's eyes. If she wasn't sure how to interpret it, then the resulting raking gaze that looked her up and down left her under absolutely no illusions about the intent behind Alves's scrutiny. "Thank you, ma'am."

"And what a fine looking crew," Kessler commented with a smile as he looked down the perfectly straight line of Alliance personnel. "I thought there were also some non-humans on board, Commander?"

"The _Normandy_ was fortunate to have several other races on board," Ashley replied, eager to focus her attention on the Admiral and away from Alves. "They've chosen to go their separate ways, some to return to their homes to assist with rebuilding…much to our loss and our regret."

"No doubt. They are to be commended for their efforts during the war, however the _Normandy_ is a human ship and as such ought to have a human crew," Kessler said, his smile did not waiver an iota as the ANN camera zoomed in for a close-up as he spoke. "Well, Commander, are you going to offer me a tour of your ship?"

Ashley grew increasingly hot and irritated as time passed. Whenever she turned around, the damn ANN camera was hanging in her face catching every single irritated expression that she made. She answered the reporter's occasional inane questions as they arose, by far the most awkward being one where he directly asked her how she felt she compared to The Shepard. Ashley initially balked at the use of the title, before managing to stumble a response along the lines of no one being able to properly fill Shepard's boots.

"I'd like to set up a shot of the two of you in front of the _Normandy's_ memorial wall," the reporter suggested as they emerged on Deck three. "Perhaps with The Shepard's plaque directly in the background."

"Shepard!" Ashley muttered under her breath. "Her name is Shepard."

For a moment Ashley was free of the camera as the ANN personnel adjusted some technical aspect of their equipment. She was left in an awkward silence with Kessler for several moments. Alves hovered nearby with her back to them. The Captain was seemingly intent on scanning the names on the wall. Ashley's gaze lingered for a few moments as the woman bent forward. Although she could appreciate it as an incredibly nice arse, she immediately compared it to Miranda's. Her girlfriend won hands down. Her relief at coming to such a conclusion was cut short when she realised that she was still staring at a superior officer's bottom.

"Clearly not cut from the same mould as your Grandfather are you, Williams?" the Admiral suddenly remarked.

The question caught Ashley unawares. She jerked her gaze away from Alves. "Sir?"

"I had the dubious privilege of serving under General Williams at Shanxi," he explained in a low voice. "A Lieutenant on one of my first postings. I was part of the garrison that surrendered to those turian bastards. It took me a long time and a hell of a lot of hard work to erase that blot from my record, I expect you understand exactly what I mean."

Ashley had worked hard to rise above the stigma associated with the Williams name, but she had never viewed her Grandfather's actions in surrendering to the turians as a mere blot on a record. In her opinion Thatcher Williams was a hero who had saved countless lives through his selfless actions. It took an immense effort not to narrow her eyes and inject an undercurrent of venom into her tone when she replied.

"Yes, sir," Ashley said in a tight voice. "I do, sir."

"Good girl." He beamed at her before turning to the reporters and barking, "What's the hold up?"

Ashley scowled behind his back.

* * *

**Melbourne, Australia**

Ashley quickly shoved the last pile of clothes into her ditty bag and drew it closed with a determined tug. When she paused for a few moments to consider whether she had forgotten anything, she found that her palms were so sweaty she had to wipe them on her thighs. _How can you be nervous, Williams? _she asked herself as she hoisted the relatively light sack on her back. _It's just Miranda_.

Still, the Fleet Admiral's impromptu visit had increased her anxiety levels tenfold. Not only were they three hours late docking in Melbourne, Ashley was only just beginning to realise what other women were complaining about when they said they had nothing to wear. Officially on shore leave as of five minutes earlier when she had handed the _Normandy_ over to the yard crew, Ashley was dressed in some of the scant civilian clothes she still owned - a plain white vest top, a pair of tight-fitting, well-worn jeans, and low, brown leather boots. Her hair she left unbound. It had grown so long it sat slightly below her shoulders. She feared that the entire picture was decidedly boring.

Resigned to the fact that she was nothing she could do about it now, Ashley left the Crow's Nest. She found Sam Traynor still at her post in the CIC - the sole person who looked more boring than she did. The Specialist was still in her uniform as though she had absolutely no intention of getting changed into her civvies.

"Sam?" Ashley called out.

The Specialist made only a cursory attempt to look over her shoulder. "Oh, hello, Commander Williams."

Ashley sighed at the familiar tone in Sam's voice, and indeed the use of her rank when it clearly wasn't necessary. "You're still not annoyed about the whole snoring incident, because Garrus and I did not tell a soul, I swear."

"What?" Sam had not been listening. She finally stopped typing and turned, leaning back against her console. She folded her arms across her chest in a stubborn manner. "Oh, the snoring? No, it was mortifying at the time…but I assure you I'm completely over it." She saw Ashley lift her eyebrows suspiciously. "Honestly!"

"Whatever," Ashley wasn't entirely convinced, especially as Sam ducked her head nervously. "We're in port. I've handed the _Normandy_ over to the refit team and the entire crew is off-duty – that includes you, whether you like it or not. I tell you what, I'll wait for you to change into your civvies and grab your duffel - you're having dinner with Miranda and me tonight."

Sam's eyes immediately went wide with fright. "Comman…Ashley, I'm leaving the ship, I promise…but please do not ask me to eat with the two of you…please? At least not tonight, not until you've spent at least twenty-four hours alone together and have managed to…get everything out of your system." She ducked her head in embarrassment.

Ashley didn't know whether to laugh or be slightly affronted, she settled for the former. "Okay, but we are going for drinks-" she paused and looked thoughtful for a moment"- maybe only a couple of drinks in your case and we're going to find you a gorgeous Australian girl that takes your fancy."

"Sure thing," Sam replied sincerely enough.

Ashley's nerves returned almost the moment she entered the airlock to leave the ship. She swung her duffel over her shoulder in a manner that she hoped was casual and stepped outside into the pleasant heat of autumn in Australia. From the moment her boots echoed on the gangway, it was obvious that the Docking Bay surrounding the Normandy was still under construction. Although the oversized mag-clamps that secured the ship in place were completed, the crew walkways and maintenance access could be described as temporary at best and ramshackle at worst. Through the gaps in the gangway beneath her feet, Ashley could see straight down to the ground some hundred metres below her. She started walking down, receiving a vigorous salute from the young marine privates on guard duty as she passed on her way to the elevator.

She kept searching her surroundings as she rode downwards in the large cage – designed for hauling equipment as opposed to passengers. Every fibre of her being was tensed in anticipation at seeing Miranda for the first time in over four months. When the door slid open at the bottom, no sooner had her boot hit the dry earth than her ears were accosted by a chorus of enthusiastic shouts and cheers of 'ooh rah.' Startled, Ashley found herself flanked by lines of uniformed marines. She looked left and right as, in unison, they snapped into a perfect salute. Feeling decidedly underdressed, Ashley responded awkwardly with her duffel still over her shoulder. Even as smiling, eager marines surged forward to shake her hand, her gaze wandered in a desperate attempt to find Miranda.

"You're the reason I enlisted in the core, ma'am," a young woman beamed as she pumped Ashley's hand in a firm grip. "It's an honour to actually meet you in person."

Ashley's cheeks burned. "Um…thanks-"

"You're an inspiration to women all over Earth," another added.

"Hell, you're an inspiration to marines!" an Ops Chief shouted out. His battered face was covered with recently healed scars. "Ooh rah, ma'am!"

"Can we see your Black Widow?" another called out.

_I sincerely hope that's not bad innuendo._ "Well…it's still on board," Ashley admitted. "I wasn't planning on using it during shore leave."

Those nearest to her laughed. Several slapped her on the arms and back as more surged forward to have the opportunity to shake the hand of Commander Ashley Williams.

"Have you seen your poster, ma'am?" a grinning Private asked.

"Um…yeah," she replied at the moment she realised she was wearing a thin, white vest top in the midst of a group of marines.

"Can I ask you out on a date, Commander Williams?"

Ashley gave a cocky, handsome Lieutenant a level stare as he grinned at her in the wake of his question. _I'm spoken for_, hovered on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. For a few moments all she could manage was an awkward shake of her head before she thought of a more appropriate response. "I already have a wife, Lieutenant. She weighs forty kilos, is effective against armour, shields, and biotic barriers and can punch through twenty-five centimetres of cover without armour-piercing mods."

Even as the marines laughed around her, Ashley tried to push her way forward while craning her neck in an effort to see over their heads. Although she was genuinely touched by some of their comments, she was overawed by what she saw as undeserved attention and praise. All she had ever done was her job. After shaking what seemed like the hundredth hand, Ashley soon found a pocket of space in which to breathe. It was at that point that her gaze finally came to rest on the one person she actually wanted to see. Everything stopped in that one moment. She could no longer hear the eager questions or feel the bodies pressed up against her on, everything was silent except the sudden quickening of her breath.

_Damn, she looks hot_, Ashley thought. Her fears about her appearance returned a thousand fold. Miranda Lawson was standing well away from the crowd. Although also dressed in civvies, she'd chosen a patterned dress that hugged her upper half before floating outwards down to mid-thigh. The material was so light that it fluttered slightly in the almost non-existent breeze. In attempting to keep a low profile, Miranda was wearing a pair of oversized glasses and her hair was piled atop her head in an arrangement that somehow managed to be both perfect and scruffy at the same time. The entire picture was so casually elegant it would render her unrecognisable to anyone who didn't know her well.

There was a distinct lump in her throat as Ashley emerged from the throng. With the marines still milling around behind her, somehow her legs carried her across the distance. Even though the sun was not overly hot, it felt like it was baking against her exposed skin. Her nerves combined with the heat to render her lightheaded as she approached the brunette. It took every iota of her willpower to keep from dumping her duffel on the ground and hauling Miranda roughly into her embrace.

"Williams," Miranda murmured quietly. The corners of her mouth curved upwards into a gentle smile. "Are you done signing autographs?"

For some reason Miranda's accent sounded even more pronounced in her native country. It brought an amused smile to Ashley's face. "I'm sorry I'm so damn late." The fingers of her free handed twitched involuntarily in an effort to reach closer to the other woman. With subtle movements of her eyes, Ashley's gaze lingered over her lover's outfit, noting how it clung to her curves in all the right places. "You are undeniably…" She searched for a word that was more expressive than simply saying _hot_. "Stunning."

"I could say the same for you too." Miranda's smile broadened as Ashley raised her eyebrows and looked down at herself with a confused frown.

"I look like utter crap," Ashley protested.

"I think those jeans with that top would say otherwise."

Ashley's frown deepened. "What do you mean? M, it's not funny whatever it is you're doing. They're all the civvies I've got-"

Miranda moved in a step closer so she could lower her voice. "Shut up and follow me, Ash. It's clear that the only way I'm going to convince you how gorgeous you are is by grabbing your fingers and making you feel how fucking _wet_ I am...and I'm not about to do that in front of the entire marine corps."

* * *

**SSV Normandy SR-2**

"Sure thing."

Sam injected just enough enthusiasm into her voice to convince Commander Williams to leave her alone. She then made sure that the other woman had disappeared from the CIC completely before she turned her attention back to her work station. The haptic display welcomed her rapidly moving fingers back like old friends and, in only a few moments, it was as though she had never been interrupted.

_{You lied to the Commander, Sam,}_ EDI announced suddenly, ruining Sam's concentration once again. _{You have no intention of leaving the ship. Does that make you guilty of insubordination?}_

"How can you tell I have no intention of leaving the ship?" Sam demanded. She gave up her attempts to work and folded her arms across her chest. "Unless you've suddenly developed new powers and I know you can't read minds. You're just an annoying AI with far too much time on her hands."

_{On the contrary, Sam, I am currently running a multi-dimensional diagnostic of _Normandy's _antiproton thrusters to determine the reason for a 0.03% decrease in efficiency over the past five days_.} EDI explained. _{With Jeff's assistance, I am also in the process of locking down my core systems to prevent tampering by the Alliance refit team. And I can still find the processing power to determine that you lied to the Commander. Evidently, I am more suited to multi-tasking that you are. }_

"Showing off is not an endearing trait, EDI." Sam remained stubbornly unimpressed. She cocked her head to one side and frowned. "Why is Joker still on board?"

_{Why are _you _still on board, Traynor?}_ was Joker's almost immediate reply_. {I can't seriously believe you turned down the opportunity to have dinner with the Commander and Miranda. I would have paid a month's wages to be present!}_

Sam did not dignify his comment with a reply. Instead she persisted with her question. "I'm still on board because if I relax I'll be reminded how shit my life is," she admitted quietly. "My parents are dead and my potential girlfriend dumped me for her wife…but hey, at least I'm still alive." She tried to inject an element of enthusiasm into her voice, but it still came out sounding decidedly flat. A part of her still clung to a vague hope that Nick and Radha Traynor had somehow survived the Cerberus atrocity on Horizon, but that part was often silenced by a cruel rationality that told her they had died.

In response, there was nothing but silence for almost a minute. _{The one person I want to spend shore leave with…can't leave the ship anymore,} _Joker eventually replied.

"Oh, Joker," Sam whispered. EDI was trapped on board the Normandy because her physical body had been destroyed defending her during the Battle for Earth. "I am so sorry."

_{It was not your fault, Sam,}_ EDI responded. _{The loss of my mobile platform was…undesirable, but I would not have been able to act in any other manner. You were in danger and the mission needed to be completed.}_

_{And I don't hate you either,}_ Joker added reassuringly. _{What do you say to you, me, EDI's disembodied presence, a couple of beers and a copy of _Asari Confessions 15: Once you go Blue, You'll never go Back? I_t's an undeniable classic.}_

"That sounds like the best offer I've had in a long time," Sam replied, even managing a small smile.

* * *

**Melbourne, Australia**

"I'm sorry about your dress," Ashley whispered.

An exhausted laugh followed a few seconds later. "It was a very nice dress," Miranda commented softly.

Ashley was lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling as she regained her breath. She was naked save for her socks which she had not bothered to strip off. The sweat that had pooled between her breasts was gradually drying and she felt some measure of feeling returning to her legs. Eventually she managed to roll over and prop herself up on an elbow so she could stare at Miranda. In the weak light she could see the side of her lover's face as she looked towards the floor, probably staring at the tattered remnants of her dress. Her naked body was perfect in any light, but the moonlight rendered it like marble – pale and unblemished save for the dark areolas of her nipples and the inviting triangle of hair nestled between her legs.

"In all honestly though, you look much better out of it." Ashley grinned.

"If you're trying to make amends for destroying it…you're doing a very good job," Miranda replied. "And I don't just mean the compliment." A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. "Another couple of days of that and I shouldn't need to see you for another five months."

Ashley couldn't bring herself to laugh as Miranda's gentle teasing may as well have been the truth. They had a week together, beyond that there was absolutely no guarantee when they would see each other again. With their relationship being a closely guarded secret, it would be difficult to find any sort of synchronicity with future periods of leave.

As Ashley found herself sinking close to one of her moods, she reached for Miranda. "Come here you." As folded the other woman contently against her body, the gloom swiftly dissipated. "What makes you think I can keep that up for days on end?"

"It doesn't all have to be quite so energetic," was the murmured reply. Clearly Miranda's own exhaustion was catching up with her. She closed her eyes as she nuzzled against Ashley's chest. She trailed her hand lazily up and down the length of her muscular flank as she had dreamed of doing so often during her uncomfortable nights in her bunk at OCS. "Maybe we can just do this for a few hours?"

Ashley did grin as she rested her chin atop Miranda's head. "Spending hours with a naked woman in my arms? That doesn't sound so bad."

"Ash…just make me one promise?" Miranda asked a few moments later.

"Okay...within reason." Ashley trailed her fingertips through Miranda's soft hair. She couldn't remember exactly when the perfectly mussed hairdo had come unravelled – probably sometime between the dress-ripping incident and the last frantic minute before they had driven each other to climax with merciless tongues and thrusting fingers.

"No talk about the bloody Alliance Navy, not for a few days at least. I don't want to have to say 'sir' or 'ma'am' or engage in a single energetic activity that isn't fucking," she explained in a firm voice.

"Damn!"

Miranda drew back slightly so she could look at Ashley. She found a rather disappointed expression on her lover's face. "What was that for?"

Thoroughly enjoying the resulting confused expression on her lover's face, Ashley grinned as she wrapped each of her hands around Miranda's. With a fluid shifting of her weight, she rolled her body atop the other woman's and pinned her back against the bed. The dark strands of her hair cascaded forward, brushing against Miranda's naked shoulders.

"I was rather hoping you would show a woman of my rank a little respect this week, Second-Lieutenant," she said in a perfectly composed voice.

Miranda's eyebrows lifted in indignant surprise. "Fuck no." She shook her head and laughed. "We are not playing this game, Williams!"

Ashley arched one eyebrow. "I do believe that's _ma'am_ to you, Lawson."

Ignoring the ineffectual struggles against her restraining grip, she manoeuvred one of her thighs so it was nestled in between Miranda's. As she pressed the limb hard against Miranda's core, she was aware of the lingering moisture from their earlier lovemaking. That warmth, combined with the defiance sparkling in Miranda's eyes, was enough to rekindle her barely sated desire. She began moving her body in a gentle but insistent rhythm. Despite her protest, Miranda's lips parted slightly and she could not completely stifle the resulting groan. With her hair creating a curtain around their flushed faces, Ashley lowered her head and helped herself to another kiss. Unlike the bruising passion they had employed from their first moment of privacy, it was slow and languorous. As their tender flesh melded together to create a fierce heat, Ashley continued to move against her lover.

With a whimper of protest from Miranda, Ashley ended the kiss and levered her body into a sitting position. With one hand she grabbed her hair and swiped it back out of her face so she could clearly see Miranda splayed out beneath her. As her lover watched expectantly through half lidded eyes, Ashley began caressing her upper body with firm but gentle hands. She paid special attention to the nipples, tweaking and pinching them between her thumb and forefinger.

"I'm not playing your game, Ash," Miranda said as she shook her head again. A sigh of sweet torture escaped her lips. "And as talented as you are, I don't think I can go again so soon. Please give me five minutes at least."

Ashley arched her eyebrows as her hands trailed a little lower. "I thought I was the one who couldn't keep this up for days on end?"

"Shut up and wrap your damn arms around me, Williams," Miranda demanded. A yawn escaped her lips.

"Yes, ma'am," Ashley replied readily, practically falling down atop her lover.

Miranda protested slightly at the sudden weight, but her effort was half-hearted at best. She tucked her head in against the warmth of Ashley's chest and threw one leg over her hip in an effort to keep her as close as possible. Lazy fingers trailed nonsensical patterns over her back that left her quivering slightly. As she listened to the steady thump of Ashley's heart, her eyelids grew heavy. A contented smile crept onto her face at the whole situation - the lack of other soldiers snoring around her, an actual bed beneath her and a warm body moulded firmly against her own.

"Ash?" she murmured sleepily.

"Yeah, M?" As Ashley spoke her lips brushed against Miranda's forehead.

"You are undeniably shit at this game. You're not supposed to call _me_ ma'am."


	5. I Want Love, or Death

A/N: The following chapter contains large amounts of angst and a minor warning for sexual assault. Please don't read this chapter if you're depressed as it is...depressing.

**Chapter Five **  
**I Want Love, or Death**

**Location Withheld**

When Shepard awoke again, she felt a brief surge of hope that the hell she had endured in her nightmares was nothing more than that – just nightmares. The white room was gone, replaced by the sort of neutral decor favoured by the soulless individuals that strived to design military spaces with nothing but function and economy in mind. If she blinked a few more times the door would slide open, Liara would walk in and the rest of their lives would finally be able to start. However as soon as she tried to sit up Shepard realised that her wrists and ankles were restrained with thick bands. The extent of her range of movement was lifting her head and shoulders from the pillow. She scanned the room, seeing little other than what was very obviously a large two-way mirror taking up much of one wall. The door was closed and the blonde doctor she remembered from last time was there again. She stood beside the bed with an irritatingly gentle smile on her face. Shepard couldn't remember her name and she didn't care. Her sole concern was finding a way out of the entire fucked up situation.

Her attention shifted from the blonde doctor to the two-way mirror. Instinctively she knew that those responsible for her unjustified incarceration would be watching, observing her in some sort of warped experiment. Just the simple act of holding her head up was exhausting and Shepard flopped back down against the pillows with a huff of helpless rage. To combat the swirling anger, she closed her eyes. She remembered her poorly thought through escape attempt that had been foiled by her own mother. Her jaw clenched at the memory – a tight, potentially teeth-shattering clench of betrayal. She wanted to see Hannah Shepard again only so she could draw some satisfaction from screaming at her until her throat bled.

Her jaw eventually relaxed. Shepard discovered that it was difficult to maintain any sort of physical anger when simple things like breathing and thinking were already taxing enough. When she scraped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, it felt like sandpaper. Her tongue snaked out to lick her lips - they were dry, cracked and peeling.

"Would you like a drink?" The blonde's voice was far too cheerful and eager to suit her role as jailor.

"Yes," Shepard replied in a tight voice, not bothering with her manners.

Remembering to say 'please' and 'thank you' was not on her list of priorities. Her hope was that the woman would free at least one of her hands. That would at least give her a chance to smash the cup against the side of her head, anything to give herself another chance at escape. Plan A was dashed when the doctor returned with a cup of water with a plastic straw jutting out the top. Shepard momentarily debated refusing the drink but her thirst won out. Her humiliation was complete when the blonde had to hold the straw steady for her. She waged an internal debate as to the most effective means to rebel, but everything seemed petty or futile – spitting the water in the doctor's face, refusing to drink or giving into her urge to rage vocally at what they were doing to her. Shepard settled for draining the cup dry. She maintained eye contact with the woman as she set the cup down, observing the subtle play of emotions across her face.

_I'm the one that's strapped to a damn bed wearing nothing but a paper gown and she looks...disappointed,_ Shepard thought as her jaw started to clench again. _How can the sick bitch smile while she's doing this to me? _

However fatigue gradually dampened her anger until she could no longer even summon an iota of hate towards the blonde doctor. Her churning emotions were trapped within a prison created by her own physical limitations. Shepard felt drained and empty. _A husk_, she thought bitterly. _I feel like a husk._ Tears were the sole outlet available to her pathetically weak body, and she had absolutely no strength to fight them. Unchecked, they carved warm paths down her cheeks as the doctor looked on. Shepard's only escape was to turn her head away.

"Hey…surely it's not quite as bad as all that." The blonde was still damnably cheerful. "You're looking awfully glum for someone who saved the entire galaxy. You should know that people call you The Shepard. You're a hero."

"I believe the term you're looking for-" Shepard began in a bitter voice "-is martyr."

"But you're still alive-"

"I was supposed to die." Shepard turned to face the blonde with an expression devoid of all emotion. "And I think your friend, the one with the moustache, made it very clear that I succeeded in that aim."

The blonde leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Heller's an ass. Since when have you ever listened to the opinions of men like him? "

As the blonde spoke, Shepard finally remembered her name. _Dr Naomi Stone_. She saw past the carefully coifed hair and Alliance uniform to see a woman only a few years younger than herself. Her girl-next-door good looks and enthusiasm seemed entirely out of place in this hell. Dr Stone looked as though she belonged in another world, another time.

"Tell me, Dr Stone, what part of this whole fucked up situation feels like being alive to you?" Shepard demanded in a cold voice. She felt a sense of satisfaction when Stone's blithe expression slipped and she was driven to take a step backwards. "Go ahead, tell me I should be grateful just for being alive. Tell me that it shouldn't matter that I'm strapped to a bed like a criminal, that I don't know where the hell I am or why I'm being kept here. It's also fine that my own mother is a part of this whole farce. I'm alive so at least I can drink out of a straw and piss into a goddamn plastic bag!"

"Evan-"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Shepard hissed. She managed to lift her head and shoulders off the pillow as she spoke. "Not you or my mother or any one of the sick fucks in this place. Liara T'Soni thinks I am still dead because of you people. I don't care what you do to me, but the fact that you would make her suffer is cruel beyond words. I'm not going to beg…just prove to me you're not a heartless bitch and let me get in touch with my bondmate."

"I want to help you, honestly I do, but you know I can't do that much," Stone explained tentatively. She kept her distance as though she feared Shepard would start raging at her again. "I'm just the doctor in charge of your day-to-day care. This goes well beyond-"

"Dammit, tell me who…how far up does this go?" Shepard demanded harshly. Her throat almost did feel like it was bleeding. She paused and drew in a breath in an effort to curb her anger. "Why are _Alliance_ personnel doing this to me?"

Stone shook her head. "I-I can't answer-"

Shepard turned her head away. "Then get the fuck out of here," she whispered in a venomous tone.

Faced with such unrestrained hate, Stone fled immediately. Shepard listened – firstly to the sound of the doctor's hurried footsteps tapping against the floor and then to the decisive sound of a heavy door sliding shut. In the silence that followed, she heard her quiet exhale rattle as it left her throat.

Several minutes passed during which Stone did not return and Shepard could only lie on her back staring up at the ceiling. A few times her gaze wandered to the two-way mirror, but it was in the wrong position for her to be able to catch a glimpse of herself and the thought of being watched like some sort of experiment or freak show left her feeling sick to her stomach. Eventually there was nothing to do other than close her eyes in an effort to find a measure of peace inside her head.

Peace was impossible to find in the swirling chaos. Her memories and emotions were like a group of people all clamouring to be heard over one another. The underlying current was the wretched sense of unfairness that she had survived the Crucible only to end up in hell anyway.

"Liara."

The whisper was barely audible but Shepard needed to say her name out loud. A part of her hoped that she would feel some sense of connection to her bondmate, regardless whatever distance separated them. However there was nothing other than the dull ache of pain which she was certain was merely her own. The meagre sob that burst from her lips confirmed as much. She choked it back before more could follow, feeling disgusted with herself that she would let the situation overwhelm her so easily. _Stone was right. You're still alive aren't you?_ Shepard demanded of herself. _Fuck knows how you're going to get yourself out of this one though-_

Shepard's train of thought was interrupted by the door. Her eyes remained closed and her facial muscles slack as she listened to the sound of footsteps. They were too heavy to be Dr Stone. Eventually someone stopped at her bedside. Even though she could not see whoever it was, she felt the force of their gaze as they watched her. There was the discreet sound of clothing rustling and a second later Shepard's eyes opened at the moment she felt the unmistakable chill of a gun barrel being pressed against her temple. She found Dr Heller staring down at her with an intense expression on his thin face. She did not react further. A sadistic part of her actually preferred Heller's pistol to the head over Stone's optimistic demeanour.

"Just giving you a little taste of your own behaviour," he said as he twisted the barrel against her skin.

"You expect a marine to react to having a pistol pointed at her head? This isn't even the worst way I've ever woken up," Shepard said. She managed a smile and thoroughly enjoying the resulting sneer that played across Heller's lips.

"No, I don't expect that it is," he said quietly. "But it does serve to remind you that every breath you take is solely at the discretion of others. If it were up to me, I'd slit you open in a heartbeat. I'm not interested in you, so much as what's _inside_ you. Studying all that tech contained within your carcass would be infinitely easier if you were less alive."

Shepard had little energy to be impressed by his threats. "Do you expect me to be grateful that you're not in charge?"

Without any form of warning, Heller lunged forward and pressed his forearm against Shepard's throat. With her arms restrained, her sole means of defence was to glare defiantly as her airway was severely constricted. He grinned as he listened to her gasping attempts to breathe.

"Does it hurt to be so valiant, or did someone programme you to be a self-righteous puppet?" Heller pressed forward, completely restricting her ability to breathe. "Or are you really just a scared little girl? I saw the way you crumpled and fell into Mummy's arms. Pathetic."

As Heller's weight disappeared from her throat, Shepard could do nothing other than give him the satisfaction of hearing her draw in deep, gasping breaths. She lay panting as he set the pistol down on the table next to her empty cup before turning his attention back to her. Her gaze remained stubbornly fixed on the ceiling as she listened to him pull on a pair of thin plastic gloves. Without warning, he grasped the IV line in her arm and yanked it out. Shepard did not so much as bat an eyelid.

"If that one didn't hurt, this next one will," Heller promised.

Although Shepard fought not to look at him, she could not help but see his grin broadening as he peeled back the paper gown covering her otherwise naked body. Keeping her body limp, she feigned complete indifference as he spread her thighs apart. While the rough fingertips of his left hand parted her sex, he grasped the second tube protruding from her body with his right. Her best intentions to ignore what he was doing to her were shattered by the severe pain that accompanied the withdrawal of the catheter. Despite her best efforts to stifle her cry, it forced its way out between her gritted teeth in a half-scream, half-grunt.

By far the most humiliating aspect of the procedure was the leering, satisfied grin on his face. With tears of rage and pain stinging her eyes, Shepard rolled her head to one side. She could take comfort only in the fact that she did not react when drops of a pungent, warm liquid splashed against her face.

"Hmph!" Heller grunted, most likely disappointed by the lack of reaction from his patient. "No thanks, Shepard? Ungrateful bitch."

When the door closed behind Heller, Shepard finally gave into the emotions she'd kept a determined stranglehold over whilst in his presence. Several sobs tumbled over one another in their haste to escape her lips. As she cried, she angrily scrubbed her face against the pillow in an effort to dry the urine from her skin. To add a final insult, Heller had also seen fit to leave the paper gown bunched up around her waist.

Shepard's eyes felt crusty and sore by the time she had cried herself out. Their red-rimmed pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her gut. Any anger she felt had long since ebbed, replaced by a certainty of helplessness and an overwhelming desire for the nightmare to somehow end. She'd been awake for a few hours at most, and already the experience had driven her deeper into despair than she'd ever been in her life. Even after losing Liara on Alcyone she'd kept going out of a sense of duty. With the war over, there was nothing other than the hope that someone would make the call to harvest the Reaper tech and end her life.

Furious at her own internal thoughts, Shepard sniffed back the latest bout of tears and fixed her gaze squarely on the ceiling. _Don't you dare give up. Liara's still out there somewhere_. Shepard knew without a doubt that if she could somehow get word to Liara that she was still alive, then the asari would tear apart both heaven and hell to find her. _No more of these goddamn tears,_ she promised herself. _Regardless of whatever twisted games that bastard is playing_.

As time dragged, there was nothing for her to do other than drift in and out of sleep. Shepard spent her time trying to grasp fleeting memories but most of the time they danced just out of reach. The only ones that she could see and feel with any clarity were the events that had happened since she woke up. Each time she jerked awake, there were only a few seconds when she did not know where she was. Eventually she would try to move one of her limbs and feel the reminder that she was strapped to the bed. The glass of water Stone had given her seemed like an eternity ago and her stomach rumbled with actual hunger pains.

Her entire body tensed when she heard the door open again. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief when she lifted her head from the pillow to see that it was Stone as opposed to Heller. The blonde doctor actually had the decency to blush when she noticed the position of Shepard's gown. She crossed the room quickly and, with a no-nonsense motion, she tugged it back down.

"I'm sorry," Shepard said. She thought her voice sounded different – subdued, beaten. "For what I said."

Stone shook her head quickly. Several strands of blonde hair fell forward over her face. "No…it's understandable. Waking up to find yourself here. It must seem like a nightmare." The young doctor sniffed at the air delicately. "What on earth is that smell?"

"Heller," was all Shepard offered by way of explanation. In all truth, she could no longer even smell it.

The doctor winced sympathetically. "I am terribly sorry. Dr Heller is…well, he is what he is. The best I can do is caution you to be very careful around him..." She paused and frowned thoughtfully. "Although…would you like a shower?"

With her eyebrows lifted in surprise, Shepard could only respond with a nod that she hoped was not too eager.

Stone began unstrapping the restraints that held Shepard's wrists. It would have been effortless for one hand to dart out. She'd wrap her fingers around the woman's neck and squeeze. She already suspected that her new left hand was stronger than mere flesh and bone. The crystalline fingers twitched as Stone released the hand. However instead of trying to murder Stone, she settled for rubbing her aching wrists, shivering at the way the marble texture felt against her ordinary skin.

"I'll get one of the orderlies to change your bedding," Stone offered. "If you promise to behave, I don't see any reason why you should continue to be restrained."

Some small part of Shepard was actually starting to feel human again. "Thank you."

With her wrists bound in a simple plastic restraint, Shepard shuffled slowly along the corridor beside Stone. She needed the doctor's arm around her waist to remain upright on her unsteady legs. An Alliance private trailed a metre or so behind them. Even outside the room, it was impossible for her to gain any sense of location or scale, not when all she could see were uniformly standard doors and corridors. For the moment she was content to let the prospect of a hot shower outweigh everything else – even the image of ripping Heller's throat out.

Shepard was grateful to find that there was no mirror in the bathroom. For some reason she did not want to face her own image – not yet anyway. With some difficulty, she managed to strip the paper gown from her own body and step into the featureless white shower cubicle. However she was so busy struggling to turn on the tap, that she did not notice that Stone was standing directly behind her with a blank expression on her face. Shepard was unable to enjoy the warmth of the water cascading over her naked body beneath such scrutiny. It was only when Stone pointed to the water that she understood the doctor was trying to mask their conversation.

"Tell me why they're doing this to me!" Shepard whispered urgently. "Is this some rogue offshoot of the Alliance, or some secretive R & D department with off the book funding?"

Stone shook her head sadly. "You don't understand." Her whisper was so quiet, Shepard had to strain to hear what she was saying. "This isn't some offshoot…Evan, this is the _Alliance_."

Shepard could not contain her scorn. "I don't believe you. Why the hell would they do this to me? Where is Hackett, Anderson?"

"Anderson was...ugh!" Stone's face twisted in frustration. "Look...I tell you anything and they'll just take me off your case and find another doctor – probably one who isn't as sympathetic to you," she explained.

"And you are?" Shepard demanded. "Why?"

Stone sighed. "You don't remember me do you, Evan?"

Shepard frowned. She was too confused to bother calling Stone out on the use of her first name. As the water flowed over her head and face, she studied the other woman. There was still no hint of recognition. She slowly shook her head.

"March 2177…the Citadel…Purgatory?" Stone prompted quietly. The doctor was standing too close to the stream of water and her sleeve was soaked.

The water hammered against Shepard's skin like a balm. _March 2177?_ It was a lifetime ago but Shepard needed very little time to remember why that particular date was significant. It was only a month after the massacre on Akuze. She'd been released from extended psych evaluation after having blagged her way to a clean bill of mental health. Much of what she said had been very well constructed lies. The screams of her unit still echoed in her mind and she'd used her shore leave to lose herself in a haze of alcohol and mindless, detached sex. She accessed scattered memories – mostly short flashes as opposed to anything substantial. Despite her penchant for blue flesh, Shepard had ignored any asari in Purgatory that night. The last thing she wanted was someone else probing at her nightmares. The young blonde woman had not been the most gorgeous woman in the club that evening, but something about her meant that she was the one Shepard wanted. In her eyes Shepard had found the innocence that she desperately wanted to reclaim for herself. She'd had to settle for claiming the woman instead. Naomi had wanted to dance. Shepard obliged by pushing her into a dark corner and dancing the only way she knew how. Later they'd found a cheap hotel in one of the lower wards. It was at that point that her memories fragmented into a haze where Shepard was only certain of two things – they'd fucked and she'd left several hours later.

_Of all the places to run into a one night stand – naked in a fucking shower cubicle. _Shepard did not know how to interpret this information. As she searched Stone's face for any hints, she kept flashing back to an image of her with her head tilted back and mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

Stone saw the recognition and her cheeks coloured slightly. "You do remember. And here I was thinking that you were the type of soldier that walked away and never looked back."

_That's precisely what I _did_ do. _"Dr Stone…Naomi, it was one night…almost a decade ago. I don't know what you were expecting, but it meant nothing to me other than a brief escape." As she kept her eyes locked on the other woman's, inwardly her mind was working as she tried to fathom what angle she could possibly be playing. _Why bring it up? Why treat me with anything other than indifference? _The one thing Shepard could not allow herself to dwell on just yet was the faint possibility that this offered her a chance.

The other woman looked mildly insulted. "Please, I'm not so naïve as to believe otherwise. But I caught a brief glimpse of you, Evan Shepard…before you were Hero of the Citadel and Saviour of the Galaxy. I know who you are and I want to do everything in my power to help you now. Call it payback for the night we shared."

"You know what I need, Naomi." As she kept her eyes on the other woman, Shepard picked up the cleansing gel and a scrubbing pad. She poured a liberal amount of gel over her body and began to scour her skin with renewed intensity. "I need to get the hell out of here-"

"I can't-"

"Then at least get a message to Dr Liara T'Soni," Shepard urged. "It doesn't matter that you don't know where she is. Just get it somewhere on the extranet, bury it, code it, it doesn't matter. Liara will find it and she'll do the rest."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best," the doctor replied in a tentative voice – her fear was obvious. She looked away as Shepard closed her eyes and began scrubbing at her long, dark hair. "You seem very confident of Dr T'Soni's abilities,"

"Not just her abilities." The whisper too quiet for Stone to overhear. "Her love."

* * *

In an effort to feel a sense of tactile contact, Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard pressed the palm of her hand against the cool surface of the glass. Figures moved on the other side of the window. She watched, transfixed, as a blonde woman wearing an Alliance science uniform helped her daughter into a pair of navy-issue track pants. Although it had only been several days since she had last seen her, Hannah had to admit that Evan looked as though she had started to regain some colour and weight. Her movements were still sluggish and uncoordinated, but she managed to tug the pants up herself. She had to stifle an odd mix of pride and nostalgia that crept up on her. How many times had Hannah herself helped her child with the same action? It would had been almost three decades ago, from a young age her stubborn daughter had insisted on being left to dress herself. It was only a few years later that Hannah had lost her altogether as she allowed herself to become consumed with her work at the expense of a relationship with her daughter.

Eventually she had to look away, and find something else to focus on lest she do something foolish like start crying. Her gaze lingered on the second person in the small room, but she could not read his emotionless features. Beneath his thick, black eyebrows, his grey eyes were as dark as slate.

"Admiral Kessler, sir?" Hannah was grateful her voice emerged without a catch. "Permission to be excused."

"Seen enough, Shepard?" Kessler turned to regard her with that stony glare.

"I have pressing work to do. I doubt that the situation here will change." Hannah's own voice sounded cold to her ears.

"The subject does appear to be more docile that reports had led me to believe," Kessler agreed.

"What happened a few days ago was an isolated incident, nothing more. She was scared-"

Kessler's grunt interrupted her. "What if she actually manages to shoot people the next time she's scared…or hormonal? I may have acquiesced to Dr Stone's request to wake her up, but I will not hesitate to close down this programme if matters get out of hand. You do understand that this arrangement is temporary at best, Admiral Shepard? Unless you are so desperate to keep your daughter alive that you would allow her to spend the rest of her life like this?"

"With all due respect, sir. I disagree. If she becomes more malleable to Alliance tenets-"

A brief laugh snorted from Kessler's nose as opposed to his mouth. "She's your daughter, I would have thought that you would understand the impossibility of that happening more than most."

The Rear Admiral bristled slightly. In all truth Evan had ceased to be her daughter in anything except name the moment she had helped recapture her. Hannah knew her well enough to know that Evan would never ever forgive her for such a betrayal, regardless of the motives behind her actions.

"She will understand the importance of these steps…for humanity as a whole," Hannah tried to protest.

"Hannah, I've known you for almost forty years and I know that you don't believe a word of what you're saying." Kessler remained unimpressed. He jabbed a thick finger towards the two-way mirror where a fully-clothed Evan was resolutely attempting to hold a plastic spoon in her hand so she could feed herself. "I would think that you of all people would realise that _Commander_ Shepard has done more for harmonious galactic relations than anyone else since First Contact. That woman almost single-handedly cured the fucking genophage, she's practically a krogan deity. She managed to get krogan soldiers to hold the line on Palaven so she's also a goddamned hero to the turians. To top it all off, she's married to one of those blue slu-" Kessler cut his own tirade short. He lowered his hand and puffed out his already massive chest. "-one of those _asari_. Somehow I don't think she is going to support our new galactic policies."

Kessler continued, "Regardless of the dissenters amongst our ranks, the decision was made by those entrusted with the responsibility for ensuring the survival of our race. The krogan are consumed with their own internal power struggles, the turian hierarchy was all but decimated to the point where it will take generations to restore and the asari are still grieving for what they had lost rather than making an attempt to rebuild. Recent reports suggest that famine on Thessia has claimed almost as many lives as the Reapers." His voice took on a particular note of satisfaction. "Despite the fact that we were the first planet hit, humanity was resilient enough to begin the rebuilding process with unmatched vigour. Our military is no longer outmatched by the turians. However if this is ultimately going to work, if humanity are going to be _the_ dominant power in the galaxy it requires a certain level of ruthlessness. Unfortunately one of the casualties was Commander Shepard."

"The Alliance simply cannot afford to have _The Shepard_ preaching galactic cooperation. She'll remain at this facility," Kessler said with finality. "As a martyr she cannot disagree with our portrayal of her. Her legacy will say exactly what we need it to say."

"I understand," Hannah replied.

For a few more moments she turned her attention back to the room on the other side of the mirror. Evan was still seated on the edge of her bed, methodically shovelling spoonfuls of thick protein substance into her mouth. Every so often she paused to take a sip of water from a nearby glass. When by chance her gaze lifted, she seemed to be staring directly at her mother. Hannah felt a chill run through her body before forced herself to remain calm. Evan couldn't see her, it was just pure coincidence. However she had to look away before that haunting gaze became seared inside her mind.

"Admiral Shepard…Hannah, you know full well you can have your pick of assignments," her old friend eventually spoke. "Why remain here-"

"This is my duty, sir," Hannah replied firmly. "And I'll see that it's carried out to the letter."

* * *

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

"_I don't want to," she heard Shepard say quietly. The soldier's tone was stubborn, almost petulant. _

_Liara did not understand. "You do not want to what?"_

"_Move on." Shepard said as she slapped her palm against the door leading out of the Shadow Broker's office. As she stepped out she turned over her shoulder and said one last thing. "I've never stopped loving you, Liara."_

Liara fought to hold onto the image of Shepard she remembered from that moment. It was in the wake of the mission to Menae where she had narrowly avoided ending up as Brute fodder. Shepard had saved her life and then promptly sent her back to the _Normandy _because of her wounds. They'd quarrelled bitterly about that decision and the subsequent conversation had dredged up a myriad of grievances that they had both packed around themselves like armour. Liara remembered the sick feeling in her stomach when Shepard confirmed her physical relationship with Miranda Lawson. No matter how the soldier had tried to explain it, Liara was unable to see rationality within her argument. She clearly remembered the vehemence in Shepard's tone, her anger as she tried to justify her actions to someone who was unable to admit that she was wrong. The turning point had been initiated when Liara broke beneath Shepard's anger, unable to continue to flaying already raw wounds to drive an even larger wedge between them. She had essentially admitted that she was still in love with Shepard. It was an admission that had almost destroyed her to make as she had the horrible feeling that Shepard no longer felt the same way. The Commander's parting words had thrown everything upside down. It marked the final halt to the downward spiral in their relationship.

As Liara remembered Shepard standing by the door, she could clearly picture the fragile, but hopeful expression on her face. The war had been relatively young. Shepard's hair still tumbled down around her cheeks and she was actually dressed in a clean uniform. The Citadel was still intact, Liara's father was still alive, and Shepard was still weeks from making the decision that would lead to her death.

Even as she struggled to maintain her hold on Shepard's parting words, she felt the memory slip from her grasp. When it was gone, Liara's eyes opened slowly. She was perched on a wide rock that jutted out into the smooth surface of the lake. There was nothing in front of her save for the dark surface of the water. The few sounds she could hear were almost imperceptible – distant bird calls and the slight rustling of leaves. For the first time in the five months that she had spent at Aria's compound, Liara had ventured out of sight of her home. The days of inactivity were dragging to the point where she had failed to even get out of bed the day before. Her network remained dark, the training programmes unused and the food supplies untouched. The one determined act she had performed was to finally take out the photo that she had kept in a drawer for so long and set it beside her bed.

Shepard seldom posed for photos unless ordered to during official engagements. This particular image was a rare candid shot captured three years earlier on board the _Normandy_ SR-1. Liara had to guess she'd taken it sometime between the missions to Noveria and Virmire and it had languished, forgotten, on her omni-tool for months. It was a poor shot, Shepard wasn't even looking at her when the photo had been taken. She was staring off at some unknown point with a pensive expression.

It was one of the few physical pictures she actually had. Most of what she kept of Shepard remained in her mind. She could summon memories and emotions from their melds – all bittersweet of course, but still evidence that they actually had a life together. Of late the memories were becoming difficult to control. While they began as fully formed, they soon began to come apart at the seams. As she struggled to hold onto them, they fractured into pieces. Unbidden, her nightmares wove themselves into the fabric in some twisted attempt to create a whole. The memories became grotesque parodies of the life that they had shared.

Liara stared down at the mirrored surface of the water below her and saw her own face reflected back at her. She studied the reflection for a few moments, noting with disgust that she appeared decades if not centuries older than her 109 years. Her skin was stretched taut across her bones, her cheeks were little more than sunken hollows and the clothes she wore swallowed her skeletal frame. When the view became too difficult, she shifted slightly to fold her legs beneath her in a more comfortable position. Her eyes slid closed and she attempted to find some sort of peace and cohesion in her meditation.

_You just need to concentrate_, she urged herself desperately. Liara reached for another memory. Her concentration was already badly frayed, but she feared that if she did not establish some form of control then the nightmares would completely devour her memories. As Liara slipped into a memory at random, too late she realised that it was one of their lovemaking.

_The walls of Shepard's cabin on the Normandy SR-1 formed in her mind and an unbidden heat immediately sparked and caught fire in the pit of her stomach. They were both naked in the middle of Shepard's bed, sheets and clothing strewn haphazardly around them. Shepard sat crossed legged while she straddled her lap, riding the fingers that filled her so completely. Shepard's other hand grasped the nape of her neck. Every finger seemed to be skilfully applying pressure to an area of sensitive flesh somewhere on or within her body. It was all Liara could do to wrap her arms around her lover's neck and hold on as she ground her hips in an incessant, desperate motion. Everything was too much. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back with wild abandon. She did not even recognise the cries coming from her own throat. _

"_Hey," Shepard's gentle whisper brought her back. "I want you to look at me."_

_Without ceasing her movements, Liara managed to restore a measure of coherence to her thoughts and control over her body. Both came easier when she found the cool calm within Shepard's light blue eyes. The sensations cascading through her body were no longer a scrambled mess. She was aware of everything happening to her – of Shepard's thumb pressing down hard against the nape of her neck and the taut tips of her sweaty breasts moving against her abdomen. Liara realised that at some point Shepard had added a third finger to the two already moving inside her. She ground her hips downwards and felt their length move against her slick internal walls. _

"_E-Evan," the name was dragged from her lips in a single, hoarse breath. "I cannot…"_

_Despite the Commander's control, she felt overwhelmed by the intensity of staring into her eyes as she fucked her. She felt as though her entire existence was hovering on the brink, scant moments away from crashing down around her. _

"_Liara…focus on me," Shepard said. "My voice."_

_Shepard drove her fingers deep inside. Liara cried out, her head lolled from side to side and her eyes started to slide closed once again as she felt the hunger building inside her. With a determined grunt, she forced her eyes open again and she found Shepard's. The intensity only increased as her hips bucked against Shepard's hand. Sweat pooled between her heaving breasts as she drove herself towards orgasm. _

_Beneath her, Shepard strained to keep up. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," she whispered with an expression that was half a smile, half grimace. _

_When it came, Liara's orgasm was all consuming. She lost her struggle to hold onto Shepard's gaze as her head tilted back once again and a drawn-out scream emerged from her throat. The sound was raw, primal and piercing. It was only when the last of the shudders had subsided that she was able to open her eyes again. The lingering pleasure was instantly replaced by an awful chill when she looked down at Shepard. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream at the sight of her own arm impaled within the Commander's raw, bloody chest. Although Shepard's pale blue eyes were still focused on her, they were brimming with horror and unshed tears. Blood bubbled from the corners of her lips. _

"_Goddess, no!" Liara's anguished cry filled her ears. _

"Goddess!"

As she wrenched herself free of the memory Liara collapsed forward onto her hands and knees. Her stomach tried to expel something solid but all that emerged after several violent heaves was a stream of thin, green liquid. Her head hung limply over the water beneath her as she gasped desperately for every breath. It did not help that she had begun to cry, great racking sobs that caused nothing but pain as they shook her fragile body.

_I am not strong enough to do this without you, Evan_, she thought bitterly. This was one final, cruel torment. Her memories - the most precious remnant of Shepard that she thought no one could ever take from her, had been corrupted. As she struggled to get herself under control, Liara drew in a series of deep, sucking breaths. _Focus, T'Soni…breathe. _

"_Liara…focus on me. My voice."_

Shepard's strong, confident voice ought to have provided the perfect anchor, but the harder she tried, the more difficult it became to grasp her words. Liara cringed at the thought of sinking into any of her vile memories again. She then tried to focus on her own reflection but her vision swam in and out of focus to the point where the creature staring back at her was unrecognisable as anything other than a monster.

Liara lost herself in the skeletal face with its teeth bared in a primal grin. It was mocking her weakness. The dead, grey skin seemed to slough from her face in the moments before it opened its mouth and screamed.

Dead fingers suddenly burst from the still water, wrapping around her head. She felt the talons pierce her skin in the moments before it dragged her downwards. When Liara hit the icy water, all the air was instantly driven from her lungs by the shock. She attempted to draw in more air, but water mercilessly filled her mouth instead. The cold was like a thousand knives piercing her skin at once. As she thrashed, she caught several glimpses of light above her, but the darkness continued to pull at her limbs, tugging her body downwards into the depths.

With a flood of relief, Liara realised that the screaming in her head had finally stopped. When she closed her eyes, she found the blissful silence she craved.


	6. Survival is the Spirit

**Chapter Six  
Survival is the Spirit**

**Location Withheld**

At first everything erupted in violence. Cruel talons pierced the tender flesh on her body. The harder she struggled, the deeper the grip became. Her body was gripped by the desperate need to draw a breath but the much needed air would not come. Instead her lungs filled with water so cold that it sent stabbing pains radiating throughout her entire body. Then everything was gone – the talons, the pain and the need to breathe – and only darkness remained. With the gradual onset of a sense of peace, acceptance finally started to take hold.

_No_.

Everything was wrong. Although it had been chillingly cold, there had been no water to fill her lungs in the emptiness over Alchera. There had been no peace as she died. Instead she had fought, clinging desperately to the last scraps of life because she had something to live for. It was with that realisation that the nightmare started to unravel. As she clawed her way to consciousness, Shepard realised that it did not belong to her. The last glimpse she saw in the midst of that peace was her hand drifting limply in front of her fading vision – the skin was blue.

Shepard bolted upright. Even as the air that she had so urgently needed flooded her lungs, she tried to speak. The single word came out as half-strangled croak that sounded less like an actual word and more like cry.

"Liara!"

Shepard found herself in her prison cell. The overhead lights had been dimmed slightly for sleeping, but they still illuminated every crevice of the room. It meant that her jailors could see exactly what she was doing at all times and she was prevented from seeing through the two-way mirror. Whoever was watching at that point in time would have seen her swing her bare legs over the side of the bed and hang her head, clutching at it in both hands as though trying to make sense of something.

For some reason, Shepard felt that what she had just experienced was no ordinary nightmare. It had been terrifying and real enough, but those experiences were not her own. Somehow, despite whatever distance separated them, her bond with Liara had finally triggered. Shepard did not know whether Liara had felt her in return, all she did know was that something terrible had happened to her bondmate. It had felt as though she was drowning. Regardless of whether or not it was a literal interpretation of something that was actually happening, Liara was in life-threatening pain.

Her bare feet hit the cold floor and she lurched toward the two-way mirror. With clenched fists, she began pummelling against it in an urgent beat. With the lights dimmed on her side, she was able to see the faint outline of someone observing her. Whoever it was did not move even as she continued to pound her fists against the glass.

"You have to let me out!" As Shepard screamed at the top of her lungs, flecks of spittle hit the mirror. A small part of her acknowledged the futility of her demands. She knew that she could scream and beat at the glass for hours until she lost her voice and her hands were bruised, but still they would not release her from the sterile prison. However accepting her reality paled in comparison to the danger she _knew_ Liara was in. "Please let me out!"

Placing her hands over her head and digging her fingertips into her scalp, Shepard paced a few steps back from the glass. She scanned the room in which they kept her. The furnishings were minimal. Save for the bed she slept in and the fixed toilet in the corner, everything was plastic – the bedside table and the pitcher which held her water. She renewed her attack on the mirror with something approaching a frenzied state – smashing her foot, her shoulder, and her head, anything that could have a chance of shattering the glass.

"Come you fucking prick, I can see you standing there for fuck's sake!" she yelled as she finally gave in and unleashed her left fist on the glass without restraint.

Shepard felt only a dull impact reverberate throughout her body as the crystalline limb slammed into the glass with a solid thunk. In the wake of the strike, she saw that a single, small crack had appeared on the otherwise unblemished surface. She immediately resumed pounding against the glass with her left hand, cursing the fact that she lacked the strength to be able to put any decent power behind her punches.

She had managed to create several broad cracks in the thick glass when the lights suddenly went up to their full strength and the door to her room opened.

"Stand down, Shepard!" a harsh voice demanded.

Shepard turned to see three Alliance soldiers entering her room, all three of whom had stun pistols aimed in her direction.

"It's vital that you let me out of here," she said, her voice trembling with rage and exhaustion as she approached them. "Someone is in danger."

They were all unmoved by her plea. The nearest yelled at her again, "Get down on the ground, now!"

Although she had absolutely no desire to hurt the men, they were standing between her and a possible avenue of escape. She lifted her hands above her head and began to kneel at a deliberately slow pace. Obviously eager to get back to whatever he would rather be doing at that moment in time, the nearest approached her with an irritated huff. Shepard waited until he was within striking distance before making her move. Her hands darted forward, her left wrapped around the hand that held his weapon. The artificial fingers squeezed in a crushing grip even as they wrenched the weapon from his hand. As soon as he let it go, Shepard drove her right fist up into his gut. She rolled, grunting as her almost bare shoulder slammed into the hard ground. A stun discharge narrowly missed her moving body as she bounced lightly into a kneeling position and fired. As the bolt hit the nearest squarely in the chest, he screamed and dropped like a stone. However before she could put down the second, Shepard felt a weight slam into her body. Her snap judgment that she'd made to rule the first soldier out of the fight had been wrong. Even with a broken hand, he managed to knock her off balance. Her second shot narrowly missed the third soldier. At such close range, his own shot did not miss. The discharge slammed into Shepard's shoulder, whirling her around and throwing her to the floor. Although the pain was intense, she did not cry out. A knee was jammed in her back while both her hands were wrenched together and bound. The slug had been more than enough to put down a fully fit adult, but a part of Shepard was still able to struggle against the hands that tried to restrain her.

"Where the hell is the doc?" one demanded. With the pain clearly evident in his voice, Shepard guessed it was the one whose hand she had broken.

"Shoot her again for christ's sake, Yamada!"

"Put that goddamn weapon away, soldier!" Shepard immediately recognised Dr Stone's voice.

"With all due respect, ma'am-"

"You shoot her again, you could kill her!" Stone said harshly.

With one cheek jammed hard against the floor, Shepard watched as the blonde doctor knelt at her side. "Naomi…please, Liara's in danger." She felt cold hands grabbing at her arm, followed by the sharp prick of a needle as it entered a vein. "No! Don't sedate me, I just need…"

The sedative was exceptionally fast working. Only a few seconds after Stone withdrew the needle, she felt herself lose control over all her limbs. Her entire body went limp.

"I'm sorry, Evan," were the last words she heard Stone say as unconsciousness dragged her downwards into oblivion.

_Please don't give up, Liara! _

* * *

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

The peace Liara had felt was cruelly shattered by the fierce fire burning in her lungs. Angry at being dragged out of the dream in which she had been reunited with Shepard, she fought to return to it. However someone would not let her sleep. She felt lips close over her own and drive air into her mouth. The lips were rough and the surrounding skin prickly. Liara's first instinct was to summon her biotics so she could force her attacker away but the desperate need to breathe outweighed everything else. With a gasp, her lungs constricted painfully and she started choking instead of breathing.

"Let it out, kid, let it out."

Firm hands rolled her over onto her side. Liara's entire body heaved to expel the water that filled her lungs. As it bubbled forth over her lips, she felt as though her stomach lining was being ripped out along with it. It was all she was aware of for several minutes as she struggled with finding herself back in the pain of her reality. As her breathing returned to something approaching regularity, Liara gradually became aware of the smell of wet earth beneath her. She could not feel her limbs. There was nothing other than an all consuming cold that seemed to be eating away at her body from the inside out.

"C-c-cold." Her teeth were chattering so severely it was difficult to force the simple word out.

"I'm not surprised." Liara thought she recognised the male voice from somewhere, but she could not bring herself to care. Nor could she summon any willpower to fight back as she felt herself being prised from the earth and up into a strong pair of arms. "Not exactly the best time of the year to take a swim."

In her delirious state, Liara found herself instinctively burrowing close to the warmth offered by the body that held her. He smelled faintly of wood smoke and sweat. As the hurried gait of his movement lulled her into a half-sleep she lost all urge to fight back. She could understand on some level that he was trying to help her, regardless of her own wishes – whatever those wishes had been. Liara did not know whether she had truly wanted everything to end. All she knew was that she had managed to find peace for the first time since Shepard's death and it had felt amazing.

At some stage, as she drifted in and out of consciousness, she became aware of an artificial surface tapping beneath booted feet. This struck the still capable part of her mind as almost impossible since the only artificial element of the landscape was her own compound. There was no way this stranger could possibly gain access. Nevertheless, as her limp body was lowered onto a soft surface, Liara caught flashes of familiar surfaces.

"How..." she whispered.

"Answers later, kid. We've got to get you out of these wet things and into something warm."

Being warm sounded like an unattainable goal. Having long since lost all feeling in her limbs, Liara was fast approaching the point where she could no longer feel the rest of her body. Her head felt like it was on the verge of exploding and she was dimly aware of her heart struggling with each beat. When firm hands began dragging off the sodden wet clothes that clung to her body, she was too tired to either help or care that she was being stripped naked by a stranger. Eventually she felt her limbs being swathed in something soft and dry.

It was only after an undefined amount of time had passed that she became aware of the rest of her body, mainly due to the fact that firm fingers were massaging a measure of feeling back into her feet. At first she continued to float in a pleasant sort of haze. As she felt the skin of her own stomach beneath one of her hands, she was grateful it felt warm to the touch. After being colder than she had ever been in her life, the warmth felt almost alien. It took her some time to realise that she was completely naked – even her underwear had been discarded. Her eyes jerked open to find her body swaddled within the cover from her own bed. The only limb protruding was her right foot. It currently rested in the lap of the human male she had attacked a few days earlier. He looked relieved when he saw the she was awake. It was a sentiment Liara could not share, she yanked her foot out of his grasp and drew the cover around her like a shield. She would have summoned her biotics, but just thinking about it gave her a headache. When she shifted her body slightly, a sharp pain stabbed just below her left breast.

"Sorry about that, kid," he said as he saw her wince. "One of your ribs is probably broken."

Liara gingerly moved her hand up her stomach, skin sliding against bare skin. Her eyes eventually widened in realisation. "I am naked!" she whispered in horror. "You..."

"Yeah...your clothes needed to come off." He shrugged, hardly seeming apologetic. "Although I must admit, I didn't expect you to be so prudish. I've been to Thessia and I've seen what asari call 'fully-clothed.' If it makes you feel better, I didn't stare...much."

Liara lacked the strength to summon anything other than a smouldering fury. Her gaze drifted over the interior of her compound. She saw her discarded wet clothes lying in a pile near the couch on which she lay. The fact that she was naked suddenly paled in comparison to the fact that the human had managed to simply stroll into a building with the most advanced security that money could buy. She felt weak and helpless despite the sympathetic expression on his rugged face. The human had stripped off his own coat and probably several other external layers to the point where he was clad in just a tight thermal garment. Beneath it she could make out a body that was wiry and muscular. His damp, grey hair was plastered to his head. Although he had to have been cold himself, he appeared not to notice or at least not to care.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she demanded.

"You'd think I'd be able to get into my own bloody home," he replied with a grin.

Liara's mouth widened into an 'o' of surprise. "Your home..."

He nodded toward the view beyond the window. "You didn't actually think that the Queen of Omega suddenly decided that she wanted to get back to nature did you? That bitch wouldn't know how to appreciate natural beauty if someone slapped her in the face with it. No, this is my little piece of paradise and you, my dear Dr T'Soni, are my guest."

"How do you know Aria?" Liara asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is she to you that you would just let her usurp your home to give to a complete stranger?"

"Well you're not a complete stranger are you, I've seen you naked after all." He appeared slightly guilty when she narrowed her eyes in his direction. "I might have lied to you the other day," he eventually admitted. "I said my name was Peter Massey...that was a load of bullshit."

As an information broker, Liara had been privy to a great deal of information over the years. Although not every single fact stayed put in her head, she still managed to retain a mound of trivial and not so trivial facts. Liara slowly recalled something she had once heard about Aria T'Loak taking a human lover for almost a decade. Although she couldn't be sure, the facts were starting to add up. "You're Pericles Macklin," she offered quietly.

He winced at the use of his rather unwieldy name. "Please, it's just Mack," he insisted. "So...you've heard about me?"

Liara nodded. "Although very little...other than that you were a renowned mercenary captain...and Aria's human lover."

Mack nodded with a rueful smile. "I may not look it now, but at one time I wasn't too shabby in the looks department – you might have even called me handsome. Unfortunately Aria still holds sway over me despite the fact that our relationship ended a hell of a long time ago – well, a long time for me anyway. Being with an asari...it's difficult to explain. I guess your Comman-"

He suddenly cut himself off for which Liara was grateful. She knew he had been about to mention Shepard. Pushing her dead soldier to the back of her mind, Liara analysed the situation in which she now found herself. She was furious that Aria had managed to exert her control over her self-imposed exile without her knowledge. For all her resources as the Shadow Broker, she had been completely blind to the way in which she had been manipulated. Now she was wearing nothing but bed clothes in a home that was never hers to begin with.

"That lying bitch," Liara cursed. "I helped her take back Omega and you are telling me that she has repaid me with a web of lies!"

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that," Mack spoke up. "Although she'd never admit it herself, Aria doesn't hate you."

"She does not hate me? That is hardly comforting," Liara muttered.

"I'd take it as a compliment," Mack suggested "You're not likely to get anything better. Anyway, if she hadn't tasked me with looking out for you, you'd be lying at the bottom of that lake right now. Someone as young as you definitely doesn't want to be in that place."

_I think I did_, Liara thought as she turned her head to gaze out on the imposing surface of the lake. It was still, peaceful, betraying none of the violence she had felt as she was dragged beneath its surface. "What makes you think I didn't want to be there? Just because I am young, does not mean that I want to have to live the rest of my life." She turned back to face the human. There was an impassive expression on his face that betrayed absolutely nothing. "You cannot possibly understand what it feels like to have centuries of loneliness stretching out in front of you."

Mack shook his head. "No, can't say that I do, but this short-lived human does understand a few things. If you'd been serious about trying to kill yourself, kid, you would have put a gun to your head and pulled the trigger. So there has to something out there that's keeping you alive."

* * *

**London, Earth**

He wasn't sure whether the coffee he was drinking was any better than the swill he liked to consume before the war. However as time passed, it became difficult to remember the world as it once had been. Although he knew that it had been full of promise and the laughter of his children, that time was now just a memory and the few tattered photographs that he had managed to save.

David Codrington drained the last dregs of coffee, grateful at least that it had been hot. He gathered up his grimy hardhat and stepped out of his tent. Over the past few weeks, work had progressed exceedingly rapidly on the new stretch of pipeline connecting central London with the Honor Oak reservoir. His superiors were pleased with progress and essentially left him to his own devices. As long as the work was completed, they had no complaints.

In reality, David was rapidly losing enthusiasm for his work. For months it had been all that kept him going. The intensity of slogging it out through and beneath the war-ravaged streets of London was back-breaking and soul-sapping, but his crew had been with him every step of the way. They were good men and women who looked to him for leadership. However following the incident two weeks earlier, David was beginning to question the foundations of the new order that he was helping to build. It had been two weeks since he and Hardy had discovered Commander Shepard's unconscious body in the strange cocoon. Every night that he went to sleep in his dingy prefab, he dreamed of the moment the structure around her had collapsed and she'd fallen into his arms. The pain that had been transparent in her pale blue eyes was seared into his mind. Every morning he woke with the strange name on his lips – _Liara T'Soni_. He'd tried to do some digging on the extranet, but he knew his searches would be monitored and the records surrounding Shepard were little more than propaganda at best – most extolling her as a paragon of humanity. He could find no reference to the name that had been on her lips when she woke.

For two weeks David had waited for the news that Shepard had been found alive. However every day when he searched the feeds they were full of nothing except the latest horror stories from around the Galaxy. Tuchanka was apparently gripped in a civil war that was so devastating that it meant the genophage had been cured for nothing. The Krogan were killing themselves faster than they could breed. Most greeted this news with nothing short of unbridled enthusiasm. No one wanted the Krogan in any position of galactic power. There were several stories of alien races attacking human colonies – all of which appeared to have been repelled either by the heroic colonists themselves or the Alliance.

David wasn't sure how much faith he placed in those reports. They seemed like stories fabricated to drive more recruits to join the Alliance. He'd already lost several of his best workers to the recruiters. It galled him to hear the continued focus on the war and the military when it was peace that people needed to hear about. Still the bombastic propaganda continued, and there was absolutely no word about Commander Shepard. A part of him reluctantly acknowledged that she could have died. However he'd heard the way in which she forced the tortured syllables from her lips – _Liara T'Soni_. He knew that no one with that sort of love to live for would give up so easily.

He'd bet his own life that Commander Shepard was still alive. What he could not understand was why the Alliance would want to hide that fact. The Shepard was a hero, an icon – she could bring hope to millions. It made no sense whatsoever. As David trudged back toward the tunnel entrance, he could not help but think of the young woman he'd held in his arms for only a few minutes. Regardless of how badly the galaxy needed her, he wanted her to live for the simple fact that she deserved it.

"Hey Dave!" Hardy's raucous yell disturbed his quiet contemplation. "Are ya trying to slack off or what?"

"I'm still your boss, you insolent sod," David replied as he placed his hardhat on his head. "Surely you could start without me?"

Hardy scowled. It made his rugged face look slightly impish. "Neither meself nor any of this sorry lot went to university. There's real engineering stuff to be done, that's your job, mate."

David grinned as he slapped Hardy across the back. "Just shut up and lead the way."

As David slipped once more into the cool darkness below ground he breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes he had the stupid idea that this was where he belonged. Amanda had always teased him that he was some sort of troglodyte, more at home in his caves as opposed to up on the surface with everyone else. Still, it was handy in his line of work. He hated to think how difficult his job would have been if the thought of having all that earth above his head made him uneasy.

"How bout you finally come out for a round with us tonight?" Hardy suggested. "Some of the swill that they're serving ain't half bad and there are actual birds around here, Dave. Some of 'em ain't half bad either!"

"Look...mate, I just don't feel like I'm ready-"

"Hey, I gotcha, you're not ready to let the missus go," Hardy interrupted. "No birds, fine...but a pint at least?"

David replied with a slightly shrug which was more than enough of a positive answer for Hardy. He let out a whoop of triumph which sounded overly loud in the close confines of the tunnel. The pair passed a couple of other members of the crew whom he greeted before moving on. He knew all of them well enough to swap a few jokes save for a new guy who'd joined only a few days ago. Eventually they came to the face of the tunnel. The tunnel boring machine had broken through into a pocket several hours earlier. He'd spent much of that time trying to devise a suitable means to bridge the gap with their limited resources.

"How deep do you reckon that there hole is?" Hardy cautiously approached the edge and peered down.

Having never been overly fond of heights himself, David did not approach the edge. "Hard to say, why don't you jump off and find out?" For some reason he had an odd feeling tingling at the base of his skull. David tried to shrug it off. "We're just lucky we didn't lose the TBM." The machine would be next to impossible to replace.

"Sod off," Hardy replied with a grin.

David suddenly realised that his hands were empty. "Shit, forgot the damn datapad with all the bloody calculations on it."

"You'd forget your balls too if they weren't attached," Hardy joked with an annoyed snort. "Hurry up then, mate. I ain't got all day. Some of us actually do want to talk to a lady tonight." He gave one of his armpits a quick sniff and made a face. "And if I'm gonna get anywhere, I need a damn shower."

"You need more than that," David remarked over his shoulder.

Not wanting to hold up the schedule any longer than necessary, David broke into a jog as he made his way out of the tunnel. He passed by the crew he'd joked with earlier.

"Hey boss, you forget something?"

David paused. It was the new guy – James or Jason, he couldn't remember his name. "Yeah, I'm a dumb arse."

"I'll get it for ya, whatcha lost?" he jogged up alongside David with an eager grin on his face. "You can get back to the face."

He shook his head as he continued. "It's fine. I've got it, lad." _Jake, that's his name._ _Huh, old man's not so old after all!_

"Seriously, boss, I can get it."

"I got it, Jake," David assured him with a friendly pat on his shoulder.

He only managed a few more steps before a dull boom emanated from the tunnel behind him. As he whipped himself around, a wall of loose earth and air suddenly came rushing toward him. It slammed into both him and the young man at his side. They were picked up and thrown a good half a dozen metres before colliding with the soft mud. As David picked himself up, he realised that the overhead lights had been knocked out. The sole source of light was coming from his helmet. The weak beam barely penetrated the gloom up ahead. Beside him, Jake was lying half-dazed with a nasty cut on his forehead but otherwise unharmed. David heard more coughs coming from behind him.

"Shit," he whispered as he struggled to his feet and drunkenly plodded forward. "Hardy!"

David made it only as far as the TBM. The massive boring machine was almost completely buried in packed earth and rubble. He slammed his fist against the rear of the machine, hard enough to cause blood to flow from one of his knuckles. There was no way his buddy was walking away from the accident. _Yeah...an accident,_ David thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	7. A Bastard Behind the Eyes

**Chapter Seven **  
**A Bastard Behind the Eyes**

**Location Withheld**

Consciousness arrived with a complimentary headache – no doubt courtesy of whatever shit Stone had pumped into her veins to bring her under control. Much to her disgust Shepard also discovered that she was again strapped down to her bed like an unstable, violent criminal. Her clenched fists rattled uselessly in their restraints as she remembered the desperate rage that had provoked her current treatment.

The awful fear she had felt started to slither back into her gut. This time she fought to keep it buried. She already knew that Liara was in danger and earning herself a one-way ticket to a permanent vegetative state was not the key to helping her.

Her movement eventually drew the attention of Dr Stone. Shepard merely scowled unhelpfully when she saw the blonde doctor. She was finding it increasingly difficult to trust someone who was constantly sticking her with needles.

"Evan, you've got to stop behaving like this!" she hissed as she began perfunctorily checking Shepard's vitals and reactions.

"Like what?" Shepard snapped as she tried to wrench her head away from Stone's grip. She did not succeed and was forced to remain still as a bright light shone into each eye. "You treat me like a caged animal so I'm going to behave like one."

"Heller is furious. As soon as you pulled that little stunt last night he started talking about amputating your arm!" Stone tucked her penlight back into her pocket and began taking readings on her omni-tool. "He wants to study the tech embedded in your body, and it would undoubtedly be easier for him if it wasn't attached to you." The doctor glanced over her shoulder toward the two armed soldiers standing guard at the door. _"I can't help you like this," she mouthed. _

Shepard kept her mouth shut. Stone was undeniably crap at subterfuge and she did not want to attract additional attention. As the doctor moved the scan down her body, she closed her eyes and ignored her altogether. A vexed sigh escaped her lips. She had felt nothing more of Liara while she slept, nor now as she lay, struggling with the impossibility of trying to reach to her over a link she didn't fully understand.

Stone interrupted her thoughts by working at the restraints on her arms. "I can let you off the bed, but I'm afraid you'll have to wear restraints."

As soon as one arm was free, both soldiers moved toward her. One kept his distance and trained his weapon on her. Shepard noted it was a Carnifex and not merely a stun gun. The other held a pair of hand cuffs that would be linked to a secure band around her waist. Wordlessly, Shepard held out both her wrists toward the Private. As they clicked firmly into place over her pale skin, she met Stone's gaze and gave the woman the barest nod.

She would cooperate…for now.

* * *

**Melbourne, Australia**

With most of the personnel on shore leave preferring the boozier, more energetic establishments near the space port, Sam Traynor was grateful to find herself wearing civvies in an almost empty bar on the Southbank. The toll of war was evident in the battered, almost haphazard décor and limited menu, but Sam didn't care. As soon as she was perched in a musty armchair with a very expensive glass of half-decent wine, she felt more relaxed that she had in months. Her chair was perched in front of folding doors that were peeled back to reveal a view of the river. If Sam didn't look to the left at the blackened ruins of half a dozen skyscrapers, then she could pretend that the war had never happened. The daydream could continue with the thought that somewhere out in the galaxy, her parents were still living their lives. Then a message would eventually come from her Mum, reminding her that she had forgotten to call yet again.

Although the entire picture created nothing more than an artificial diversion at best, Sam was determined to find some sort of acceptance within herself. She would never admit it to Joker, but getting rottenly drunk with him had been a turning point of sorts. Sam had discovered that she was capable of laughing again, even if that laughter had ended with a spectacular bout of vomiting into a waste disposal chute. Unfortunately she had always been a crap drunk. She took a delicate sip of her wine, determined that it would be her only drink, before returning her attention to the text on the data pad in her hand.

Despite the novel being one of her favourites, Sam was having difficulty losing herself amidst the words. She had read and re-read the same sentence several times already. Even when she fixed the page with a determined stare, she found the words reorganising themselves into a nonsensical jumble. Eventually she gave up altogether and tossed the pad down onto the table. She took up a determined grip on her wine instead. Sam took small sips while she let the view provide her with a sense of peace.

The bar was starting to come alive a little by the time Sam moved onto her third glass of wine. She soon discovered that the most interesting way in which to pass the time was too study her fellow patrons in as discreet a manner as possible. She had already come to the conclusion that most were in the service. Some blatantly advertised this by the fact that they were wearing a uniform. A swarthy, handsome lieutenant was sitting almost directly opposite her. Also alone, he was reading from an actual hardcopy book as opposed to a datapad.

With others, their military profession was obvious simply through the way they carried themselves. Sam had to crane her neck slightly to study a young woman talking to the bartender. Clad simply in a pair of jeans and shirt, Sam thought that perhaps she was a soldier judging by the taut muscles of her forearms. Her blonde hair sat atop her head in a pile of messy curls that was obviously deliberately kept short to avoid a total loss of control. When she suddenly turned and noticed Sam staring at her, the corners of her lips curled upwards into a rather dazzling smile. Mortified at being caught staring, Sam jerked her head away so quickly she felt as though she may have given herself whiplash. As she drained half her glass, she soon discovered that she had a very clear view of the woman. As Sam had expected, she had resumed talking to the guy behind the bar, offering only a view of her rather shapely neck. Somewhat disappointed, Sam was contemplating leaving as soon as she finished her wine when she caught a flash of reflected movement. Both the blonde and the bartender were unashamedly staring at her and discussing something with grins on their faces. Suddenly acutely aware of the scrutiny, Sam concentrated on the dregs of her wine. The remainder slipped all too easily down her throat and she was left toying with an empty glass for a few moments. Buoyed by the three glasses she'd polished off, Sam shifted in her seat so she could watch the blonde out of the corner of her eye. A light laugh drifted over to her ears, causing a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. Sam was still unsure whether they were laughing at her when she saw the woman rise slowly to her feet and smooth her hands on the thighs of her jeans. The bartender meanwhile had poured two glasses of wine which the blonde claimed before she started to move toward Sam.

_Holy crap,_ Sam thought as she watched the woman's progress out of the corner of her eye. _She is coming this way. _Given that there were so few people in the bar, there was absolutely no doubt that Sam was the focus of her attention. _Shit, she's going to want me to say something...with actual words. _

As Sam was nervously drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair, a shadow fell over her. She drew in a deep breath and looked up with a nervous smile on her face. It faltered suddenly when she saw it wasn't the blonde at all. It was the lieutenant she'd noticed earlier, his white teeth bared in a broad smile.

"I didn't expect to find someone as gorgeous as you in a place like this," he announced straight off the bat.

"Um..." Sam was left fumbling for words. Without trying to appear overly obvious she cast a glance back over her shoulder to see the blonde making a hasty retreat back to the bar.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, pointing toward the empty chair next to hers.

_Yes you do mind, Sam. You bloody well mind!_ "N-no...not at all," Sam said in a voice that sounded defeated to her own ears. He was already lowering himself into the chair before her words were out. She fervently wished that she could find the nous to tell him exactly what she thought of his pick up line and just where he could go and sit (and it certainly would not be next to her). However all Sam could do was smile nervously and feel resentful at the fact that the lieutenant had not even thought to bring a glass of wine with him.

"Ah, you're a Brit." He seemed quite pleased with himself for making that observation.

"Not quite," Sam admitted. She originally intended to leave her explanation at that, but he merely watched her expectantly and she continued, "My parents were both born in London but I grew up in a colony. I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to return for school and I…um…I studied at Oxford."

He raised his eyebrows. "Impressive! I must admit that my forebears were French, but I hope you will not hold that against me."

Sam was unimpressed. "Why would I?" Without trying to appear overly rude, she was trying to study the blonde at the bar. The other woman was in the midst of draining her glass of wine while the bartender looked on sympathetically. _Was she seriously into me?_ Sam mused in disbelief, not quite daring to hope that had been the case. The lieutenant was saying something which she completely missed. "Um, I'm sorry. What did you say?"

He laughed lightly. It wasn't an unpleasant sound. Sam had to admit that, even with her limited experience and poor judgement, the man was exceptionally handsome. Admittedly there were only a handful of women in the bar, but Sam was still struggling to understand why he had walked over to her...especially when she had only cursorily glanced in his direction.

"I was admitting that I've started off rather poorly," he said honestly. "You can tell me, I'm crap at this whole conversation thing aren't I?"

Sam shook her head. "I'm not really the best judge of all that. I guarantee that I am even more crap."

"Well, why don't you tell me your name before we start arguing as to who is the crappiest?" he suggested.

"Crappiest?" Sam asked. "Is that even a word? Crappier?"

"It's undoubtedly crappiest, and the honour definitely has to go to me. I'm Leon Grenier." He glanced down a little shamefully at his uniform. "I'm afraid I've given away my occupation already. And before you think I'm some military type who likes to wear his uniform to impress the ladies, I swear I'm not. I haven't a stitch of clothing that isn't naval issue. My luggage went missing between here and my last post."

_I should have worn my uniform to impress the ladies,_ Sam thought. _Perhaps it might have made me look a little more butch. _Despite her annoyance, she found herself warming slightly to Grenier. While she couldn't risk flashing another glance over her shoulder toward the blonde, she was only mildly devastated to see that she was animatedly talking to another woman at the bar. _Shit, Sam, you are a complete and utter lost cause_.

"Are you alright?" Grenier asked.

"Huh?" Sam jerked her head back to face him. "Ah, yeah, I am. I'm really sorry, Lieutenant Grenier. I'm not usually so wool-headed." _Actually, yes you are, Sam._ "And my manners are shite...I'm Samantha Traynor, but please call me Sam."

"And you need to call me Leon," he offered. "What are you drinking, the house white?"

"Um, yes, but you don't need to," Sam insisted awkwardly. "I was just about to-"

"Nonsense, the least I can do is make up for my crappy pick-up line by buying you a drink. Stay right there, Sam...and please continue being yourself."

_Oh god_, Sam groaned inwardly as Grenier headed to the bar. She had managed to attract the attention of the best looking guy in the bar, and she had absolutely no interest whatsoever in him. As Sam sat tapping her fingers on the side of her chair, she happened to look up just as the blonde made her way out the door. Her arm was wrapped around a rather cute but scantily clad young woman. As she passed, she threw Sam a quick look that said very plainly, _this could have been you_. Sam scowled at her back. She thought that the expression on her face was somewhat smug and she very promptly decided that she was glad the blonde had not made it all the way to her chair.

By the time Grenier had returned with an entire bottle of the sauvignon blanc and two fresh glasses, Sam had already forgotten about the damn blonde. Despite the three glasses of wine she had already consumed, she did not feel drunk – merely slightly giddy.

"It took me a while to be sure, but I think you're in the service as well," Grenier suddenly announced. He watched Sam with sparkling eyes as he took a sip of his wine.

"How did you know?" Sam glanced down at her rather drab civilian clothes – khaki coloured slacks and a printed shirt that did absolutely nothing for her complexion. She'd borrowed it off Private Westmoreland earlier that day.

Grenier shrugged. "I must admit I was sneaking little glances at you all afternoon," he replied quietly. "Sometimes there was this haunted look in your eyes. I think you've been at the coal face…you know what it was like out there."

"I'm just a Comms Specialist who spent her entire war on a ship," Sam explained simply. She deliberately omitted the part where she had served on the most famous ship in the galaxy. "Compared to most of the civilians out there, I think I had it soft – a warm bed, enough food…and I'm still alive."

"I know what you mean," Grenier agreed. "Sometimes it's hard to realise just how lucky we are." He too slipped into a thousand-yard stare for a few moments and Sam wondered where he'd spent the war. However it was wiped all too quickly by another disarming grin. "I'm sorry, we're supposed to be forgetting about war, drowning our sorrows and all that. Let's toast to fallen comrades and then speak of something far less depressing."

Sam raised her glass. _Especially EDI, James…and Shepard_. The wine slipped down her throat and by the time she saw the bottom of the glass, she managed to fix a smile on her face. When Grenier shifted the topic to their mutual passion for reading, she found herself finally able to put thoughts of the war behind her.

Night had fallen by the time the wine was all gone. With taxis difficult to come by in post-war Melbourne, Grenier's offer to walk her back to her barracks was gratefully accepted. Sam didn't have any great desire to hurry back to the pre-fab she shared with three other enlisted women from the _Normandy_, but exhaustion and the great deal of wine she'd had was all starting to catch up with her. She enjoyed the peaceful walk back toward the space port, but she was grateful to see the front gates of the barracks come into view. Her head felt exceptionally fluffy. _I think you've had one too many, Sam,_ she told herself. _Or five. _

Sam had to stifle a yawn as she turned to say goodnight to her companion for the evening. In all truth, she had enjoyed just sitting and talking with the Lieutenant. She was far more relaxed that she would have been if she had the agenda of actually getting laid on her mind. "Well, this is me," she announced. "I had fun." It was the most words she could strong together in her state.

With barely any prior warning, Grenier stepped forward. In one smooth motion he placed an arm around her waist and drew her in close. His lips brushed against hers for the briefest movement before she twisted her head to one side and they grazed her cheek.

Grenier immediately pulled back with a confused expression on his face. "Samantha, I'm sorry. I thought..."

"Oh god," Sam whispered as she tried to disentangle herself from his arms. When he did not immediately let her go, she placed both hands on his chest and gave him a short, sharp shove. Grenier finally took the hint and released her as she pressed her fist to her mouth and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry...if I gave you the wrong impression, I'm really sorry, Leon. I'm gay, so very gay in fact that even kissing someone as nice as you has made me feel a little sick to my stomach. Not because you're not a really nice man...but because you're...well, you're a man and -"

"Samantha-" Leon interrupted her just as she was about to enter full on babble mode "- I get the picture, and I understand completely. I shouldn't have presumed that someone like you would just let me kiss her."

"Um, if it's okay with you, I should really get going," Sam said awkwardly. Not only was she embarrassed beyond belief, she had an overwhelming urge to clean her teeth. "But thank you, Leon...honestly. I did have a rather fun evening with you."

"Good night, Specialist Traynor."

Even as he offered his polite goodbye, Sam had already turned to march toward the barracks gates. She resisted the urge to scrub at her mouth further until she was well and truly out of sight of the Lieutenant. When she cast a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw only his back as he walked in the opposite direction.

_No one finds out about this_, Sam told herself firmly. Regardless of the proof it offered of her desirability, Sam had absolutely no desire to inform any of her crewmates about her 'misunderstanding.' _Not the Commander, EDI, Bethany, or Sarah...and certainly not Joker. Oh god, what if Joker finds out? _

* * *

Ashley Williams could think of a number of her favourite things to wake up to. Her Dad's famous buttermilk pancakes with lashings of bacon, banana and maple syrup had always been a rare treat during the times that he was actually home. Even as she grew older, she could still remember the way the smell wafted up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Abby. When she was a girl she had often taken it for granted that her Dad would spend all of his precious shore leave doting on his daughters. All too often she had pounced on him at some ungodly hour of the morning, begging him to take her walking or even hunting. Over the years since, she had felt regret at the fact that she had not just let him sleep in. However she also valued the memories in which the two of them set out into the pre-dawn darkness with a couple of sandwiches and his antique hunting rifle. More often than not, they'd come home empty handed, but it was always the time spent together that was most precious.

There was no tantalising smell of pancakes hanging in the air as she woke – although the lingering smell of her lover's body was every bit as memorable. Ashley's eyelids fluttered open and she found another of her favourite waking moments – the sight of Miranda Lawson standing naked in front of her. Although the curtains were still drawn, Miranda's naked body appeared as though it was glowing in the sunlight that did manage to creep through the gaps in the curtains. Ashley's gaze lingered over the one curve of Miranda's breast that she could see – although she had spent much of the past few days exploring them intimately, she still could not quite get enough.

"Turn around," Ashley murmured, just loud enough for her voice to carry across their tiny, dingy hotel room.

"I'm not turning around just so you can ogle me," Miranda replied in a bemused voice.

"Of all the things you've let me do to you over the last two days, I should think that ogling is the least of your worries," Ashley retorted.

When Miranda did not reply, she uttered a slight snort of protest and crawled out of bed to head to the bathroom. Her head swam slightly when she stood, a reminder that she had overindulged on the scotch yet again. As she gratefully emptied her bladder, Ashley reflected on the injustice of actually finding someone that had a higher alcohol tolerance than she did. _Damn perfect genes…_

She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later with freshly scrubbed teeth to find Miranda effortlessly doing push-ups in the narrow floor space. Physical exertion of that magnitude was far beyond Ash's grasp as she flopped back onto the bed. She settled for toying with Miranda by pressing down on her back each time she tried to push herself up. This did not last long before she became distracted by the rippling muscles playing across her lover's back and the arresting sight of her biceps. With a frown, Ashley propped herself up onto her elbows and studied her own biceps. She flexed repeatedly for almost a minute before letting out an irritated huff.

"Are you still in a foul mood because I wouldn't turn around?" Miranda paused at the apex of her movement and glanced across at Ashley.

"No," the soldier muttered sullenly. "How the hell did your biceps become bigger than mine?"

With a bemused expression on her face, Miranda knelt in front of Ashley. "I doubt that very much. Why don't you drop and give me twenty? I'll happily confirm that your biceps are indeed larger."

Ashley scowled. "What happened to no physical exertion other than sex?"

"Oh, Ash, I know exactly why I love you so much," Miranda replied with a grin. She reached out and stroked the other woman's bicep with gentle fingers. "Please don't change. Your biceps are perfect and they're definitely still bigger than mine."

As Miranda rose to her feet, Ashley's sullenness was driven away as she finally had her opportunity to ogle. The raven-haired woman deliberately slowed her movements, even going as far to run one hand over the curve of her breast for Ashley's benefit. While Ashley lay salivating on the bed, she was struck by the tenderness evident in Miranda's words and movements. As she watched Miranda cross the room, she found herself again dwelling on her recollections of her childhood.

"What time do we need to be ready to catch the transport to Vancouver?" Miranda asked as she paused outside the bathroom. When Ashley didn't reply immediately, she prodded, "Ash?"

"Huh?" Ashley rolled over to face her with a clueless expression on her face that clearly indicated she had not been paying attention.

"Vancouver? Your sisters?" Miranda repeated. "What time do we need to leave?"

"Oh…um, 0900," Ashley replied as she checked the time. They still had over an hour. Although she was looking forward to seeing Abby and Lynn, she was disappointed that Sarah had not been able to secure any leave to meet up with them. A part of her also regretted the fact that she would have to share her precious time with Miranda with others, even her little sisters. Did she really want to share Miranda with anyone…ever? "Hey…M?" she asked quietly. Before continuing, she drew in a deep breath. "How do you feel about having kids?"

As Ashley searched her lover's face, she saw a shadow fall for a brief moment before it was brushed aside. "I don't think that now is an appropriate time to be talking about such things."

Ashley frowned. The tenderness that had been evident in Miranda's voice a minute earlier was gone, replaced by the emotionless ice-queen persona she was so adept at wearing. The transformation unnerved Ash because she saw this side of Miranda so rarely.

"I didn't mean that we have to consider it immediately," Ash replied quickly. "I mean, I know it's not the best time to be thinking about bringing a child into this hell, but eventually, when everything stabilises it might be nice to have a little person around with your eyes-"

"And you and I are still on opposite sides of the galaxy," Miranda interrupted. "Are we each going to have the kid for a week at a time? You could set up a playpen on the _Normandy's_ CIC and I can carry it in a goddamn harness on my hardsuit. Is that what you want?"

Ashley had moved into a sitting position as Miranda spoke, her voice rising with each successive word. She eventually shook her head. "No, that's not…" her voice trailed off as she regretted ever remembering the smell of buttermilk pancakes. "M, I'm sorry."

A ragged sigh escaped Miranda's lips as she leaned back against the bathroom doorway. "I can't have kids, Ash. I don't know whether it is a side-effect of my genetic makeup…but I'm infertile." Her lips curled upward into a self-deprecating smile. "Guess I'm not completely perfect after all."

Without waiting for an invitation or an opening, Ashley rose sinuously to her feet and padded across the short distance that separated them. Although Miranda stubbornly resisted her initially, she soon allowed Ashley to fold her into a fierce embrace.

"You are undeniably perfect," Ashley whispered, pressing her face into the thick mass of black hair and inhaling. When she drew back, she simply brushed the single tear away from beneath Miranda's eye without commenting on it. "Shower?"

Miranda arched an eyebrow. "As long as we don't come out dirtier than when we went in."

With their limited supply of lukewarm water having curtailed any time-wasting activities, Ashley was dressed packed and ready to leave in less than ten minutes. She found herself lying on the bed with a bemused expression on her face as she watched Miranda pacing back and forth clad in just her underwear. Her clothing was precisely folded into various piles on the bed.

"Abby and Lynn are hardly going to care what you wear, M," Ashley commented as she absently prodded a pile of t-shirts with her toe.

With an annoyed expression, Miranda straightened the pile. "I don't care whether they care or not - I care! And just because you bundled up all your gear and shoved it in your damn sea bag in five seconds doesn't mean you can sit there and ruin my system."

"That's a system?" Ashley asked, staring at the piles of clothes. "Looks more like-" She cut herself off abruptly when she found herself on the receiving end of an icy stare.

Although watching Miranda whilst she was half-naked was enjoyable enough, Ashley soon realised that the other woman did not cope well under scrutiny. To occupy herself, she turned on the ancient wall console mounted adjacent to the bed. _Oh god_, she thought with an inward groan as the first thing she saw was her own 'enhanced' image being used as part of a recruiting campaign. She was about to turned the screen off when an image of Admiral Hackett suddenly appeared on a news bulletin. Ashley quickly unmuted the sound.

_{It is with great regret that we say the Alliance has lost a true hero today. In the early hours of the morning, Admiral Steven Hackett passed away suddenly.}_ Miranda stopped pacing and turned her attention to the screen with a small gasp. The reporter continued. _{It is believed that he had been struggling with a heart condition for some time-}_

"Bullshit!" Ashley snorted. "I spoke to Hackett last week. He sounded perfectly fine."

"Perhaps he was masking it?" Miranda suggested uncertainly.

_{Already a well-respected and highly-decorated veteran of the First Contact War, Admiral Hackett ably led our Fleets throughout the Reaper War and notably during the Battle for Earth-}_

"He was only in his fifties." Ashley shook her head in disbelief. "Shit, after what happened to Anderson…to lose Hackett as well."

The image of Hackett was replaced by pre-recorded interview footage of a striking woman with short hair whom both Ashley and Miranda separately recognised before her name even emerged on screen – _Cpt. Christiane Alves,_ _Alliance spokesperson._

_{The loss of Admiral Hackett, while tragic, serves to remind us of the depth of leadership ability within the Alliance,}_ Alves explained in an emotive voice. _{I can confirm that Admiral Peter Mikhailovich will be assuming the command of the Fifth Fleet in its mission to provide support and security for humanity's colonies.}_

"Do you recognise her?" Miranda suddenly asked.

"Huh?" _Shit, was I staring?_ Ashley looked up at Miranda. However the other woman was entirely focused on the screen and the grainy image of Captain Alves. She felt an iron-clad guilt take root in her stomach. _How the hell does she know?_ "Okay, I stared at her butt once!" Ashley blurted out quickly. "I was trying to test just how gay I am, okay?"

Miranda shifted her attention to a guilty looking Ashley and frowned. "When did you stare at her butt?"

"She's Kessler's aide. I gave them a tour of the _Normandy_ two days ago. And it wasn't a stare so much as a glance." _It was a stare, Williams_. "That guy was an ass…Mikhailovich is an ass. Shit, we're surrounded by assholes."

"That woman was in Macapá last week at a meeting with one of my OCS superiors." Miranda ignored Ashley's excuse as she continued, "She had no reason for being there other than to quiz me on my history with Cerberus. I can't believe I didn't know who she was immediately. Seriously, Ash, are you trying to tell me you didn't recognise the woman? What the hell were you doing in 2178?"

"2178?" Ashley frowned. "Damned if I can remember – probably having my ass kicked by my NCO on some godforsaken backwater. What happened in 2178?"

"Torfan happened," Miranda said in a quiet voice. "Alves was also the sole survivor of the Mindoir massacre and one of the candidates put forward to be the first human Spectre. Her candidacy was later dismissed despite some corners putting forward a strong case. You were staring at the Butcher of Torfan, Ash."

* * *

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

Liara had to admit that the smell emanating from the tiny kitchen was mouth-watering. She had spent so many months subsisting on cold meat and cheese that the thought of actually eating something hot caused her to feel a small amount of genuine excitement. A few minutes later, when Mack set the plate in front of her, it was a struggle to feign indifference as she picked up her fork. Liara had never made a secret of her dislike for human food, but the first taste of Mack's food had her very quickly scooping up another.

"You don't have to stand on ceremony, kid." Mack said as he took a seat nearby.

As her companion began shovelling the food into his own mouth at a prodigious rate, Liara lost some of her restraint. She ate quickly, but with small portions which she chewed thoroughly lest she upset her tender stomach. Both ate in silence that was punctuated only with the sound of Mack's open-mouthed chewing and the scraping of forks against their plates.

With a properly full stomach for the first time in months, Liara settled back against the sofa with a small sigh. Although she was still weak after Mack finished her out of the lake the day before, she was rapidly regaining strength thanks to his attentive ministrations. She had managed almost a full eight hours sleep without the aid of medication. While her dreams had still been troubled, she had mercifully not woken screaming.

Thankfully now wearing clothes, Liara studied the human who had very effortlessly integrated himself into her life in a very short space of time. She folded her legs beneath her and tucked a blanket tightly around her body to ward off any chill while he wordlessly gathered up their empty plates. Pericles Macklin was nothing like she had come to except from a mercenary. Aside from the odd phrase and his thick accent, he was well-spoken and knowledgeable. He moved with a lazy sort of grace to his movements that sadly reminded her of the way Shepard had moved.

He returned with two steaming mugs of Earl Grey, one of which Liara accepted gratefully. She felt almost guilty for having done very little other than sleep and devour every morsel of food that Mack set in front of her. When the New Zealander returned to his seat on the sofa, she could tell from the pensive experience on his face that he wanted to say something.

"You've got a lot of tech in here, kid," he said as he nodded toward her inactive terminals.

Liara truthfully had not thought about the Broker's network since she pulled the plug. Even when she turned and looked in the same direction as Mack, she could not bring herself to summon any enthusiasm for the role she had given up. Although the centuries of her life lay before her, empty and waiting to be filled with some sort of life, she struggled to picture what that life would look like without Shepard.

"Surely you know I am almost twice your age?" Liara did not reply to Mack's comment, instead highlighting something that had struck her as odd since meeting the human.

He shrugged. "Yeah, doesn't change the fact that you're still a kid. You're what, 110 at most?"

"109," Liara replied in a taut voice.

"My point exactly - kid." He took a sip of his tea. Apparently he drank as enthusiastically as he ate. Liara almost shuddered at the loud slurp. "So why the hell are you hiding away alone at the end of the world?"

Liara lowered her gaze. "Hiding from reminders of a life I once lived…a love I lost."

"Motherfucking _love_," Mack snorted. "Thought so. Aria wouldn't tell me when I asked her but I knew it had something to do with love – what else can turn a perfectly rational individual into a pathetic shadow of their former self? I say love can go fuck itself in the ass-" He cut himself off mid-tirade and looked slightly apologetic. "Pardon my language."

She almost smiled in response. "No, it is quite alright. My bondmate was a marine. Trust me when I say I can handle colourful human expletives."

Mack laughed in understanding. "So your marine, where were they stationed?"

"On a ship," Liara replied simply. In all truth she had not thought of the _Normandy_, her home, since her breakdown. She found herself wondering whether Ashley had pursued the leads she forwarded regarding the attack. Wherever the ship was, Liara fervently hoped that she and her crew were safe. "She was the commanding officer of a frigate."

"What was she like?" Mack prodded gently.

"In many ways, she was a quintessential soldier – selfless, brave, guarded…but…" Liara bundled up her blanket in her fists. She found answering Mack's simple question more difficult than she would have thought. "She was constantly covered in dirt…or blood, she could not drive or dance-" Liara did not know whether to laugh or cry. Although she dredged up memories of Shepard trying to blend in on the dance floor at Flux, she also remembered their last dance on the Citadel the night they had bonded. The more she spoke, the more cathartic her words seemed. "She was flawed…vulnerable. One moment she would save my life and the next I would want desperately to shield her from her fears. However no one could accuse her of being weak. At the end she gave her life to save mine…yours and every other life in the Galaxy." Liara looked up and met Mack's confused gaze. For the first time in months, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips even as her eyes started to burn. "My bondmate was Commander Shepard."

Mack let out a long breath. "Shit," he said very succinctly. "I don't know whether to say well done or sorry, kid."

Liara did not reply immediately. She knew that if she opened her mouth she would descend into tears. If she kept everything tightly sealed, then she could just about hold herself together long enough to avoid tears. Despite her anguish, she felt better for actually having been able to talk about Evan to someone. After spending months keeping her emotions buried beneath a strict regime, they almost destroyed her when they emerged. The conversation with Mack felt healthy.

"Thank you for the food," Liara offered eventually. "It was delicious."

"It was nothing special," he replied even as he grinned happily.

"And for the use of your home. It truly is a spectacular place."

"Well, I always used to say there's no such thing as an old merc, but it turns out that I was wrong. You spend as long as I did fighting other people's battles then you can rack up a decent amount of credits. Choice was to piss it all away or buy a place like this," Mack explained as he glanced around proudly. His jovial expression slipped slightly when he turned back to face Liara. "I'd let you stay here forever, but I'm not sure how much longer you'll be able to remain on Earth."

Liara frowned. "Why?"

"Let's just say I've been hearing a few things through various contacts. There are a number of indications that Earth's government will soon be closing its borders to all aliens-" he continued speaking through Liara's shocked gasp "-even one so lovely as yourself, Dr T'Soni."


	8. The Vernacular of Family

**Chapter Eight**  
**The Vernacular of Family**

**Vancouver, Earth**

The landscape that stretched out below the transport was a miserable carpet of blackened buildings and scorched earth. The ruins were starkly contrasted against the vibrant, white-capped blue of the bay, almost as though nature was desperately trying to compensate for the blasted post-war reality. As she stared sadly out of the window, Ashley Williams remembered the last time she had flown into Vancouver almost nine months earlier. Were it not for the city's distinctive topography, she would have said it was a different city altogether. Very few large buildings were still intact, most were blasted out shells or skeletal remains. It appeared that most of the rebuilding efforts were concentrated around the Defence Headquarter buildings and the space port.

As the transport came in over the HQ on a low trajectory, she couldn't help but recall the reunion with Shepard that had taken place on the day of her arrival. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had stood at the side of the pool, watching her old CO swim lengths. Ashley couldn't remember exactly how long she'd just watched Shepard's repetitive movements whilst trying to formulate an apology in her head.

_"Look, Skipper…on Horizon…I was angry when I saw you with Cerberus. I thought you'd turned your back on the Alliance. I may have said a few things-"_

_"Forget it-"_

_"Let me finish. I hate Cerberus…and I hated you for working with them, but I hate myself more for abandoning you when you needed me. I should have been with you when you went through the Omega-4 relay. God knows you can't shoot worth a damn."_

The apology had been sincere, but her irrational anger had come flooding back all too quickly following the revelation that Cerberus were behind the attack on the Mars outpost. _Dad always did say you were too quick to resort to anger, Williams, _she chided herself. _Now you're the one involved with an ex-Cerberus operative. _

Unlike when the _Normandy_ had passed through the Omega-4 relay, Ash had been at Shepard's side throughout the Battle for Earth and all the way to base of the Crucible itself. The marine had pushed herself beyond the limits of her abilities in order to keep the Commander safe, but still her efforts had not been enough. She had managed to keep Liara safe, but not Shepard herself. As the transport flew past the scaffolding and the tiny figures at work, she knew that their efforts were all part of Shepard's legacy. It was solely because of her that they had the chance to rebuild at all.

Ash felt a light touch graze the back of her hand. It seemed ridiculous that the simple gesture represented the limit of intimacy she was able to share with her lover in public. When she moved her attention from the view to the woman sitting next to her, she barely had the willpower to resist leaning in for a chaste kiss. Miranda's gaze conveyed similar sentiments. Her blue eyes sparkled with implicitly wicked intent, but she blatantly solved her own urges by folding her arms across her chest.

"Nervous?" Ash asked quietly.

"Terrified," Miranda replied honestly.

A small grin followed her lover's admission. "You know they don't bite."

"I'm not worried about physical violence, you of all people know I can handle myself," Miranda mused. "However if I resort to trussing your sisters up with biotics, I don't think I'll win them over. What am I supposed to do…to say?"

Miranda's voice had taken on a pleading quality that both surprised and enthralled Ashley. It became even more difficult to resist the temptation to touch her. Ash was frustrated by the fact that she knew she could do a far better job of reassuring Miranda through her touch than she ever could with words. She already had to stop herself from responding with a pathetic shrug and an 'I don't know.'

"Just be yourself," she eventually offered.

Miranda responded with a less than impressed expression. "You know me better than anyone else, Williams. If I followed your advice then my first meeting with your family would more than likely be my last. The whole point is not to be myself. I need to be someone tactful, chatty, and…nice."

Ashley discreetly shifted in her seat to move her body closer to Miranda's and her lips closer to her ear. "I love you the way you are, M," she whispered. "Relax, be yourself, and if you're pissing one of them off, they'll let you know about it – probably with their fists."

"Remind me never to ask your advice again," Miranda replied, although there was a definite smile on her face.

Approximately an hour and a half later, Miranda still wasn't sure whether her approach to winning over the Williams sisters was working. She had settled for tactics that were halfway between Ashley's advice to be herself and her own - which mostly involved thinking through every word that left her lips and smiling at everything until her jaw ached. Although their youngest sister was absent, Abby and Lynn Williams created enough conversation of their own to make it seem as though there were half a dozen people crowded around the small table in the tiny two-bedroom apartment they shared. To make matters worse, Ashley had saved her last bottle of scotch for the occasion.

It was slightly disarming to be around two women who resembled her lover. While Abby more closely resembled Ashley with the same nose and long hair, Lynn clearly shared a number of her mannerisms and the same sense of humour. Most of the table conversation was deliberately light as the sisters sought to reconnect. While they did not shy away from mentioning Abby's boyfriend, killed on the Citadel, and Sarah's marine husband lost on Demeter, the reminiscing remained humorous. There were a lot of childhood anecdotes shared, mostly involving Abby and Lynn trying their best to embarrass Ashley. Although Miranda had little experience with mothers, Abby was clearly a mothering sort of young woman. She took charge of their meal, bustling between the table and the kitchen.

"I always wondered whether one of us would turn out to be gay," Lynn mused as she took a sip of scotch. The slight grimace on her face indicated that she was only drinking it to humour her big sister.

"I'm not gay," Ashley replied testily. She was already onto her second measure of scotch.

"Well whatever you want to call it, you're sleeping with a woman!" Lynn said as she pointed toward Miranda who merely had a shocked expression on her face.

"I always thought it would be you, Lynn," Abby added from the kitchen.

"Really?"

"Yeah, middle child syndrome and all that," Abby laughed as she lifted the lasagne out of the oven. "You were always trying to be a little different."

"You're a middle child too," Lynn fired back.

Abby shook her head. "Ah, but I'm the elder middle child."

"That just makes you an even bigger screw-up. Whatever…so I may have been with a couple of women at college-" she paused to grin smugly at the surprised faces of her siblings "-it's no big deal. Ash however is well and truly in love, and that's something I never thought I would see – other than her abnormal love for the marine corps of course."

"Hey! I thought Dad raised us to respect our elders," Ashley cuffed Lynn lightly over the back of her head.

Lynn retorted with a quick punch to the upper arm. From there the banter suddenly became a restrained brawl with the two trading a flurry of light punches as a rather confused Miranda looked on. Having never had siblings nor childhood friends, the behaviour of the Williams sisters was almost alien to her. Abby practically had to fight her way to the table despite carrying a steaming hot tray of food.

Abby caught the expression on Miranda's face as she sat down. She leaned close to her sister's partner to whisper conspiratorially, "Ignore those two, they always were the most immature out of the four of us." She interrupted her sisters by clearing he throat loudly. "If the two of you are done embarrassing yourselves, I'd like to say grace so we can eat before this delicious meat-substitute lasagne gets cold."

She paused while her sisters composed themselves. Ashley and Lynn, who had been scrapping only moments earlier, linked hands. Miranda frowned at first as Ashley beckoned her to hold out her hand but she eventually obliged, linking up with Abby on her other side. The younger sister gave her hand a warm squeeze but all she could worry about was her palm being sweaty.

Bowing her head, Abby began, "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing the four of us together. We ask you to watch over Sarah, our loved one who couldn't be here, and to our loved ones who are here in spirit – Dad, Tom, and Kostas – please watch over them. Thank-you for bringing Miranda to our table, regardless of whether she's turned our big sister gay or not, we're so very pleased to welcome her to the Williams family. Ash has always been a bit crap when it comes to finding love so I have to suspect that you gave her a little bit of help with that-"

"A _lot_ of help," Ashley murmured as she rubbed her thumb over the back of Miranda's hand.

"-and thank you for this food-"

"And the hands that prepared it!" Lynn interjected, knowing Abby would not thank herself.

"- after everything that has happened, we're so incredibly blessed to be sitting here eating it as a family. Amen."

A small chorus of 'amens' followed. Even Miranda offered up her own despite her doubts whether any deity, if they even existed in the first place, would actually be interested in knowing her. After the first and largest portion of lasagne had been heaped onto her plate, the sisters descended on their food with great gusto. Miranda needed only a small bite to confirm that it was leagues better than the food she had endured at OCS and she was soon eating with just as much enthusiasm.

As she scraped up the last morsels of food, she found herself making a strange realisation. Although she had no idea what being with a _normal_ family was supposed to feel like, she instinctively knew that she was a part of something. Her earlier insecurities were long since forgotten as she sat back in her chair and sipped her drink, content to observe the woman she loved interacting with her sisters.

* * *

With her body accustomed to waking at 0500, Miranda was surprised to wake alone the next morning. The space in the bed bedside her was cold, indicating that Ash had been up for some time. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved top, she quietly ventured beyond the bedroom. Having given up her room to accommodate the couple, Abby was on the couch. She had expected to possibly find Ash reminiscing with her sister, but she was nowhere in sight. Abby was awake, propped up at one end of the sofa reading a tattered paperback book.

"You military types sure love waking up early," she commented upon seeing Miranda.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Miranda winced.

Abby laughed and shook her head. "You're half an hour too late for that. Ash has never been light on her feet. She could wake the dead with her stomping around. If you're looking for her, she went up onto the roof to catch some air about half an hour ago."

Miranda nodded as she moved toward the door. "Thanks, Abby."

"Hey, Miranda?" Abby ventured quietly. Miranda looked up whilst tugging on her shoes and saw that younger Williams sister was perched on the edge of the sofa. "I hope I'm not overstepping the bounds of our relationship, but I just wanted to make sure you know just how welcome you are. Dad never told her himself, but he always worried about Ash ever finding someone to spend her life with – by the time she was a teenager she had three kids to help bring up. She never had time for dates and parties and all of that crap, and then she joined the Alliance straight out of school. The three of us used to tease her mercilessly about not knowing how to date – it was all kind of cruel really. I always thought she preferred being alone…but I know her, I see the way she looks at you and I can tell she's head over heels in love with you."

_Is this the sort of conversation that women are supposed to have together?_ Miranda asked herself as she finished putting on her shoes. She managed a small smile upon seeing the expectant expression on Abby's face, but she had no idea of the appropriate response. Although she had no doubt of her love for the marine, she was unaware of the social protocols for sharing such information. "Thank you," she eventually replied. Having never actually been on a date with Ashley, she had no idea regarding the marine's skills in that department. She was however very well versed with her skills in _other_ areas. "I'm not sure exactly what I did to deserve your sister, but…I love her…a great deal." _Too much?_ _Is this the part where she threatens to knife me in my sleep if I ever hurt Ash?_

However, the decidedly sappy expression on Abby's face told her that she had probably said the right thing. Eventually she grinned and relaxed back against the cushions. Both women were startled as one of the adjoining doors opened. With her cheek-length hair sticking up at wild angles, Lynn Williams dashed across the floor and leapt onto her sister's makeshift bed with an energetic flourish.

Lynn's grin was decidedly more impish as she stared toward Miranda. "All I can say is that Ash must be amazing in bed because you're definitely a ten and I've always thought of her as more of a seven."

Slightly alarmed by Lynn's first comment and having no idea what she was talking about with her second, Miranda could only respond to Lynn with a smile. "Um, so which way to the roof?"

"End of the corridor, take the stairs all the way to the top," Abby explained. "But grab that jacket next to you, it'll be freezing out."

"You're awful," Abby was saying to Lynn as Miranda hastily tugged on the jacket in an effort to escape the sisters. "Ash is definitely an eight."

Even as she escaped out of the door, Miranda heard Lynn making a case for her to be an eleven as opposed to a ten. Against her better judgement, she found herself smiling._ I'll have to ask Ash what they mean_, she told herself.

As soon as Miranda opened the roof-top door, she was met with an icy blast of wind. The rooftop was largely shrouded in darkness, made even worse when she closed the door behind her. As she started out she drew the jacket firmly across her chest and folded her arms to retain some heat.

"Ash?" Miranda called out softly into the darkness.

"I'm here."

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw the slender shape of her lover leaning against the parapet on the far side of the roof. As she made her way across the wind nipped painfully at the exposed skin on her face and hands. She jammed her hands beneath her armpits in an effort to keep them warm. Already shivering by the time she reached Ashley's side, Miranda felt slightly resentful that she had made the decision to exchange a perfectly warm bed for a roof-top. They were supposed to be on leave after all.

"Seriously, Ash?" she announced in an acerbic tone. "You exchanged lying in bed next to a naked woman for this?"

"The view is nice," Ashley replied simply.

Although she did her best to humour Ash by following her line of sight, she could see very little in the pre-dawn darkness. She was far too cold and grumpy to pick out anything other than the devastation caused by the war. From their rooftop vantage point all she could make out were the twisted shadows of buildings. Although most of the streets were lit, the lights were deliberately weak to conserve power usage. With a military curfew still in effect seven months after the war, there were very few vehicles either in the sky or on the streets.

"I would have thought that your view in bed was nicer," Miranda replied in a thoroughly unimpressed voice. Although she was determined to appear as nonchalant as Ashley about the cold, she could feel her nose starting to run. She sniffed discreetly. "You can stand out here and freeze your tits off, I'm going inside."

"M," Ashley said softly. "Come here."

Miranda gave serious consideration to ignoring the request for about five seconds. Then she caved and eagerly allowed herself to be folded into her partner's arms. As she nestled her back against the warmth of Ashley's chest and felt strong arms wrap around her body, she felt her foul mood fade considerably. It disappeared altogether when the taller woman leaned her chin atop her shoulder and pressed her cold lips against her neck. Her entire body responded with a delicious shiver.

They remained pressed together for almost a minute before Ashley broke the silence. "I received a message from Alliance brass a few hours ago." The tone of her voice was so close to being miserable that Miranda knew her words could only herald bad news. "I'm to report back to Melbourne by 0900."

The first response that almost left Miranda's lips was a tirade of expletives aimed at the 'chicken-shit outfit' that was responsible for such a cruel decision. However as Ashley's arms tightened around her body in an obvious attempt to find a few last moments of solace, she held them all back behind gritted teeth.

"I guess the Alliance realised that they're not safe without the _Normandy_ on duty. I should be grateful for three whole days with you." For her partner's sake, Miranda kept the bitterness from her tone. She swivelled in Ashley's arms, bringing them face to face, and swallowed back a lump in her throat before continuing, "It has been wonderful, Ash."

A ragged sigh escaped Ashley's lips. "I was considering typing a reply of my own, telling them to kiss my ass." She lowered her face so she could press her lips to Miranda's. For several seconds their cold lips warmed against each other's in a heated, desperate exchange. When they drew apart, Ashley found her breath falling hot and heavy against Miranda's skin. "And that isn't helping," she murmured quietly.

Miranda straightened and fixed a determined expression on her face. "You're humanity's only Spectre, Ash…and the Commander of the Alliance's most famous frigate. Unfortunately they need you more than I do."

"You're not that selfless, M," Ashley pointed out.

"Not usually no, but I've been trying out a few new things lately all in the name of the greater good," Miranda replied determinedly. "I'm either going to grind my teeth down to nubs or draw blood biting my lip all the time but I made it through OCS so it must be working." She worked her hand out from between their bodies and wrapped her slightly stiff fingers around the front of Ashley's jacket. Her thumb absently played with the zipper as a determined expression took root on her face. "Yesterday morning, when you asked me about whether I wanted children…I'm sorry for my reaction-" Ashley opened her mouth to interrupt but Miranda silenced her with a brief peck on the lips "- and I'm really sorry that I don't want a child-"

"It's fine-" Ashley began, her disappointed expression was completely different from her words.

"-I want at least two," Miranda continued in an emphatic tone. "After experiencing my own miserable childhood first-hand and having a glimpse into yours, I've decided we need more than one. So I'm sorry, but you'd better hope that the Williams hips are made for child-bearing."

"Well my Mom had four so I think I come from pretty good stock," Ashley said with a grin. Her gaze searched Miranda's face hungrily as she tried to commit every detail of the moment to memory. The fact that Miranda wanted to have a family with her left her feeling like the luckiest woman alive. Without warning, she slipped one of her cold hands under Miranda's jacket and pressed it against her stomach. The resulting gasp made her laugh. As her fingers tunnelled beneath the waist of Miranda's sweatpants, she found blue-eyes searching her own questioningly. "What's the flight time to Melbourne?"

"About three hours," Miranda replied, instinctively widening her stance as Ashley's fingers continued downward to press against her sex. "Why?" she asked breathlessly.

"Because I plan on being late." Ashley whispered in the second before she found Miranda's lips and began kissing her mercilessly. She used her free hand to pick up Miranda's and guide it down to the waist of her own pants. Very little prompting was needed from that point and she soon she felt cold fingers pressing against her own skin. Her body responded with an involuntary jerk when Miranda dragged one finger through the warmth between her legs.

With her buttocks pressed against the parapet behind her, Miranda felt Ashley surge forward hungrily against her body as she drove her hand in a series of delightfully firm strokes. With the cold and the unexpected contact, she was almost painfully dry. Nevertheless she urged Ashley to move faster by pumping her hips against her hand. Desperate to cling to her lover and this last playful moment they could share, she ignored the cold, the layers of clothing between them and the awkward friction to concentrate on gently manipulating Ashley's clit beneath the tip of her finger. A light laugh bubbled out from between their lips when she felt delicious warmth suddenly start to coat her finger as Ashley's body responded to her touch.

She broke their kiss long enough to murmur against her lover's ear. "I love how quickly you're ready for me. You can move faster, Ash."

"I don't want to hurt-" Ashley's sentence was made redundant when she felt a matching wetness between Miranda's legs. The marine grinned and eagerly increased the pace of her strokes. "Damn I love you, Lawson."

"Because my body responds to your touch so damn easily?" Miranda asked as she nipped Ash's ear.

"Amongst other things," Ash agreed. "However I said I planned on being late, but I don't want to be _that_ late."

Miranda clamped down hard on the earlobe she had been gentling nibbling on. Ash swore in response but neither ceased their movements – instead they intensified. For several minutes they resumed their fierce kiss, tongues scraping against one another just as their bodies writhed and thrust. Both desperately wanted to feel more of the other, but they were determined to make do with their fingers working against each other's clit. The cold was momentarily banished in the pre-dawn darkness.

As often happened when Miranda touched her, Ashley found herself nearing orgasm all too quickly. The other woman's touch was driving her so close to the brink that each breath was little more than a hiss from between clenched teeth. While she fought to keep her own efforts as firm and rhythmic as possible, she felt her legs begin to grow weak beneath her.

"I'm…close!" she whispered urgently. Her free hand clutched at the back of Miranda's neck, fingers dragging through her hair. "M, please…slow. I want us…come…mmmph…together."

"A little faster…harder," Miranda hissed urgently into her ear. As Ashley complied, her own breathing quickened to the point where it was all she could hear inside her head. "Oh fuck…mmm…damn, that's perfect!"

"You're close?" Ashley asked tenderly.

"Mhmm," was all Miranda murmured into Ashley's hair.

From that point onwards, actual coherent words became both redundant and impossible. The awareness of both women dwindled until it was comprised entirely of their struggling bodies. Ashley grunted impatiently when Miranda's sweatpants hampered the rapid thrusting movement of her arm but she would not allow herself to pause long enough to drag them down. From the urgent breaths coming from Miranda's throat and the way her hand gripped the fabric on the back of her jacket, Ash knew she was close. The marine had hovered on the deliciously painful brink of her own orgasm for some time already. Through sheer willpower and determination she held on until the second she heard an unintelligible cry catch in Miranda's throat. Ashley let herself go. The release that followed was all-consuming, to the point where she wasn't sure whether the stars were actually out or if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Ash was aware of what followed as a series of staccato snapshots. Their bodies entwined like windblown trees that needed to rely on one another to stay upright. Her entire hand cupped Miranda's sex, revelling in the wet warmth and the gradually dying spasms of her lover's orgasm. Miranda's lips were pressed against the side of her neck where her breath created a tiny patch of moisture. She was dimly aware that her own underwear were completely soaked through and starting to cool against her skin in ways that were not entirely pleasant. Ash eventually realised that Miranda was shivering in her arms.

"We need to get you inside," she eventually said, her words accompanied by the withdrawal of her hand. She wiped her fingers on her sweatpants and wrapped both arms around Miranda in an effort to warm her. "You'll catch your death."

Miranda shook her head. "I don't want to let you go, Ash." Her words were punctuated by a short, sharp sniff of the type that preceded tears.

"M…" Ashley whispered brokenly as she started to pull back.

"Don't you dare look at me, marine," Miranda hissed amidst her tears. "Just shut up and hold me with those damn huge biceps of yours. Just for a minute longer…then you can fuck off and go back to being a hero."

Thoroughly annoyed with herself for breaking down, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut against the flow of the tears. It was several minutes before she had managed to compose herself to the point where she could think about saying anything.

"Ash?" she asked. "Your sisters were trying to decide whether I was a ten or an eleven. I must confess that I have absolutely no idea what they were talking about and I don't want to offend them."

An almost carefree laugh escaped Ashley's lips. "Oh damn, it's awful but it's a scale of hotness with ten being the number of the perfect woman. You, Miranda Lawson, are undoubtedly an eleven."

* * *

**Location Withheld**

Shepard surprised herself by how quickly she had become accustomed to the restraints hampering her every movement. In trying to exercise whilst wearing them, she instinctively adapted to compensate. What she could not become used to was the aggravating sound they made every time she moved. The restraints clinked against every surface and seemed to rattle every time she even thought about moving. The incriminating sound served as a constant reminder of her of her status as a prisoner - that and the extremely precarious nature of her entire existence. From decorated Alliance hero, she was now essentially a non-entity.

Shepard gently eased her body into a plank position on the cold floor of her cell. The wrist restraints allowed for only a narrow base of support and her muscles protested slightly from just holding the plank let alone lowering herself to the floor. She dipped downwards several times with relative ease, but by the fifth or sixth push-up her body had already began to tremble with fatigue. She stubbornly forced herself to continue.

As she exercised, Shepard weighed up what little information she actually possessed. Dr Stone had made it very clear just how little value the Alliance placed on her life let alone her comfort and sanity. Shepard still struggled with Stone's claim that it was the Alliance behind her imprisonment. To even acknowledge that the organisation to which she had dedicated much of her life condoned her treatment felt like a betrayal.

On only her thirteenth push-up, Shepard felt like her heart was going to explode. _Come on, Ev, _she urged herself_. You used to be able to do this all day long. Just five more. _

Regardless of whether or not the information was true, Shepard emphatically refused to believe that either Hackett or Anderson knew anything about her incarceration. That they would eventually find out what had happened to her was one of the stubborn hopes she clung to.

_Seventeen._ Shepard hovered at the top of the movement, her arms shaking violently as they threatened to give out beneath her weight.

Of course her hope ignored the cruel reality that her own mother was implicit what was happening to her. _Eighteen!_

With a harsh exhalation Shepard collapsed hard against the floor. She lay breathing heavily, with the restraints digging into her body, for several moments before she could summon the energy to pick herself up. Rather than allow herself to simply give up, she manoeuvred into a balancing position on her buttocks and drew her knees to her chest. Even with the first extension of her legs, she felt just how little strength there was in her core. For someone so accustomed to being in peak physical condition, her frailty added to her anger and frustration. However her own body was one of the few things she still had complete control over. Before Heller or someone else took that away from her, she would drive herself back to full fitness.

_Fuck you, Hannah_, Shepard thought angrily as she managed to find a rhythmic movement with her leg thrusts. _Three, four, five_. She soon lost count as her thoughts were taken over by relentless expletives directed toward the woman who used to be her mother.

Even when the door to her cell opened Shepard continued pushing through her movements. She expected that someone had come to tell her to stop, or perhaps even strap her back to the damn bed again. Shepard snorted. Who the hell were _they_ to say she couldn't work out? She cast a cursory glance over her shoulder to see Dr Naomi Stone standing near the door with a tray of food in her hands and a concerned expression on her face.

"I thought you were a doctor," Shepard remarked, fighting to keep her voice as level as possible. "Yet you're bringing me my meals. Want to wipe my arse as well?"

She was in a foul mood and made no attempt to mask it. As sympathetic as Stone had been, she was still one of the perpetrators and not her friend.

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," Stone said, ignoring Shepard's barbed question. She crossed to the bed and set the food down. "Your body is still very weak, exerting yourself like that could potentially send you back into shock."

Shepard did note that no guards had accompanied Stone into her cell, although she could see one hovering with beyond the door. It was an interesting observation. Even with the restraints, she would be able to overpower Stone in seconds if she desired. With barely a pause, she placed her bare feet on the floor and commenced doing sit-ups. Her abs were already protesting after the earlier exercise, they burned by the fifth one. Wordlessly, Stone hunkered down in front of her and pressed her hands against her feet to keep them fixed to the spot. Shepard's first observation was that the doctor's hands were pleasantly warm. It definitely made a change from being constantly cold.

"I didn't think anyone around here was overly concerned with my welfare," Shepard commented as she pushed herself through each painful rise of her upper body.

"Well…some of us are," the doctor replied quietly. She watched Shepard with her lips parted slightly. Her voice lowered to a whisper, "You may have forgotten certain things from your past, but I haven't."

By this point in time Shepard's abdominals had erupted in a fierce pain that made every additional sit-up feel like her last one. Eventually she had to give Stone the satisfaction of seeing her stop out of sheer exhaustion. Rather than sit up and face the woman, she flopped down onto her back and lay staring up at the ceiling.

"I remember everything, Evan," Stone said as her hands lingered unnecessarily on Shepard's feet.

As soon as she felt the gentle but unexpected caress of one of the doctor's fingers against the top of her foot, Shepard forced herself into a sitting position. She dragged her feet back toward her body and out of Stone's grasp.

"The things you did to me that night…" Stone's voice trailed off, an unreadable expression on her face. She then caught herself and cast a worried glance toward the door. The guard outside was still not paying them any attention. "Sorry, you must be hungry."

Shepard's stomach responded for her with an insistent and audible rumble of hunger. She quickly stood unaided. However as soon as she went to take a step forward she tottered on her exhausted legs. Before she could fall, Stone wrapped both arms around her waist and held her steady. Although necessary, the contact felt overly intimate. Shepard felt her entire body stiffen in response. The last time someone held her, it had been Hannah Shepard. That had not turned out so well for her. For a few brief moments she remembered the tender manner in which Liara held her. _Am I ever going to feel those arms around me again_? she asked herself in a brief surrender to her despair. Stone's hand pressed just beneath her breasts.

"You could relax a little you know. I'm not here to hurt you," the doctor said quietly.

Shepard exhaled, letting out a breath that she did not even know she had been holding. "I'm not inclined to believe you, not as long as I'm still in this hellhole."

Stone helped her to the bed and then into a sit on the edge. The tray she subsequently handed her was laden with the same colourless, almost tasteless ooze she had been given every other day – at least the ones when she was actually conscious anyway.

"You're not exactly a patient woman are you?" Stone replied, her mouth creasing into a smile.

Shepard shook her head as she began shovelling spoonfuls into her mouth. The food – if it could even be called that – slithered down her throat unpleasantly and left a filmy residue clinging to the inside of her mouth. They could have been poisoning her for all she knew but she was so hungry she didn't care.

"I might be able to arrange access to the small exercise facility we have here," Stone commented as she ate. "It's not much, but you would be able to walk on a treadmill – no running though, not until I give you the all clear."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Have you run that past Heller?" she asked with her mouth still full.

"I'm in charge of your day-to-day care," Stone replied, thrusting her chin forward defiantly. "If Heller doesn't like it, he can kiss my arse."

Although still wary, Shepard nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you." _I've fucked dozens of women and the one that I don't even remember is risking her life to help me. Why?_ Even as the thought lingered in her mind, Shepard knew that she could not afford to piss off her one ally and possible avenue of escape. She swallowed her last mouthful and fixed a small, hopefully friendly smile on her face. "I'm sorry about my earlier comment…you wiping my arse? It was rude and uncalled for."

Obviously pleased with her attempt at an apology, Stone shook her head. "No, you're understandably angry. Feel free to let it out on me as opposed to Heller or someone who carries a gun. Wiping your arse isn't exactly the worst thing I could do."

Shepard cringed inwardly in response to the tone in the other woman's voice, but externally she managed a slightly embarrassed grin before continuing, "Naomi, do you think you could swing a few other perks…on promise of good behaviour of course. For starters, this food…do you think you could get me something else?"

* * *

**London, Earth**

David gripped the battered mug in his hands. As he raised it to his lips and took a long swill, he wished the drink was something other than cold tea made from leaves that had already been used too many times. Without tearing his eyes away from the console in front of him, he wiped his other, work-dirtied hand on the thigh of his trousers. He then fumbled in his top pocket, slowly drawing out a folded photo. The photo remained clutched gently between his fingers while he re-read the words on the screen in front of him. When he lifted the mug to his lips to drain the dregs, it clattered slightly against his teeth.

_Surely you're not scared, old man?_ he asked himself as he set the mug down. _What can they possibly do to you that is worse than what you're living through?_

With his hand freed from holding the mug, he stretched out and tapped his fingers against the actual physical keyboard to make a few edits to his work. When done, he sat back in his chair and stared at the screen. He didn't need to re-read the message yet again. David already knew that he had said everything that needed saying. Nor was he gifted enough with words to improve the quality of what he had written. There was no slant, no hidden message, no tricks – just the plain facts of what he had seen with his own eyes.

He reached absently for his mug. A frayed sigh escaped his lips when he remembered that he had already finished the drink. With nothing else to do he finally turned his attention to the precious item he held in his fingers. Reverently he opened the photo. As the smiling faces within were revealed, he found himself fighting back tears as per usual. Taken a lifetime ago, the image was a line-up of smiling faces – a snapshot of happiness. He had his eyes closed of course, but Amanda and the kids were so photogenic, all beaming and rosy-cheeked. David often wondered how a potential screw-up like him from the slums of the South-East had managed to end up with a picture-perfect family. Before he could give over to the tears completely, he carefully re-folded the picture and tucked it back into his pocket.

With nothing else to concentrate on, David turned his attention back to the message still clinging to the screen in front of him. His finger poised above the command key as he ran his gaze over the message one last time.

TO: enquiriesANN; WesterlundNews; mailGNN; GuardianNews; enquiriesDailyMail

FROM: region2ThamesWater

SUBJECT: Shepard

This may sound like the bullshit ramblings of a crazy guy. I'm not crazy – I fought the Reapers like a lot of other people and now I'm just a normal citizen with a job that happens to take me beneath the streets of London.

Two weeks ago I found Commander Shepard beneath the ruins of the Crucible. She was unconscious and in some sort of protective field that later collapsed. I held her body in my arms for several minutes. I've seen vids and pics of the soldier that she was – as we all have - but she was thin…weak, helpless – like she'd spent the previous six months sleeping. Hibernating? Don't ask me how the hell she survived, I'm no scientist. I'm just telling you what I saw and felt. I can't describe what I felt when she opened those pale blue eyes of hers and looked at me, but it was Shepard. Against all the odds, she survived.

The Alliance took over everything from that point. A captain named Prowse was on site and locked everything down. For days afterwards the Alliance swarmed all over the site and my crew and I were shipped out to a different location. Told me and my buddy not to breathe a word of her survival to anyone. I didn't originally see it spoken as a threat, but I'm beginning to think that it was. There are people out there that know that Shepard is alive and where she is. I don't know what reason they would have, or what kind of game they're playing, but someone, I don't know whether it is the Alliance itself, is hiding Commander Shepard.

All I'm asking you is to do some digging, ask some hard questions of the Alliance. Wherever Shepard is, I know she doesn't deserve to be hidden away. Regardless of the morale boost this would offer to everyday people trying to rebuild their lives, there are people out there that care about her and they deserve to know the truth.

[end message]

Before David could second guess himself, he stabbed his finger downward – just once. It hit the command key with an emphatic tap and a split second later his message disappeared into the ether. An odd sense of resignation settled over him as he sat staring at the blank screen. For some reason he expected to feel…something. There was nothing other than a sense that he had fulfilled his purpose.

A few minutes later David left his office with the sole focus of finding something stronger to drink than cold tea. If the Alliance was going to come for him, then he at least wanted the opportunity to get absolutely plastered first.


	9. Between a Stone and a Hard Place

**Chapter Nine **  
**Between a Stone and a Hard Place**

**Location Withheld**

Although her recovery was not miraculous by any stretch of the imagination, Shepard regained a significant amount of strength with each passing day. It wasn't merely evident in the increased number of repetitions she was able to do whilst exercising, her reactions were improving and her body was slowly filling out. Although she still had very little muscle definition, her bones no longer protruded so grotesquely beneath her skin. When she peered at her reflection in the two-way mirror she could clearly see her cheeks to be less hollow and her skin less sallow. Some vibrancy had started to creep back into her previously sunken gaze. The simple act of looking in the mirror no longer dredged up instant revulsion.

That sensation was reserved for the artificial construct extending out from her left elbow. However short of actually requesting Heller's desire to amputate her arm, there was nothing she could do. She avoided doing things with her left hand if at all possible, preferring not to bring it into contact with her real skin.

Whatever the Catalyst had done to her body, her Cerberus implants had finally been successfully repressed. All evidence of the maze of scars had been erased from her body. Sometimes, mostly in the depths of night, she still felt as though they were there – tearing at her skin.

While Shepard no longer considered herself to be a part of the Alliance, nothing could change the fact that she was a soldier. A sense of military precision returned with her self-controlled exercise regime. Shepard took what care she could in her attire. Her t-shirt was always tucked neatly into the cargos she wore. She was even becoming used to grappling with long hair for the first time in her life, having mastered the art of folding it up into a neat knot at the back of her head.

Following her request from Stone for a varied diet, the pale white goo that she had previously been fed was replaced by meals with actual colour. While they were mostly rehydrated military rations, sometimes they were actually warm. Dried fruit had appeared with her breakfast that morning and an actual chocolate bar came with lunch. In her old life Shepard disliked chocolate, but she wolfed it down as though it was the most wondrous substance ever to hit her taste buds.

They were all small victories in the wider scheme of her incarceration, but they allowed Shepard access to a fraction of hope. While her existence had not become any less precarious and she still half-expected her life to end suddenly, she felt more like an actual human and not some unfortunate waste product that no one knew what to do with.

However for all her gains, Shepard soon found out just how little it took for her to be reduced to an angry, violent approximation of herself. She was filling the time between dinner and her evening shower with something resembling meditation – mostly it involved seeing how long she could remain cross-legged on the cold floor without growing bored. The door clicked open. Although at first she was determined not to open her eyes, she knew the footsteps were too heavy to belong to Dr Stone but too light to be someone wearing military issue boots.

As soon as her eyes opened, her face instinctively twisted into a snarl. She had the distinct irritation of finding herself in the presence of Dr Bryan Heller for the first time in several days. The comment she wanted to make remained behind clenched teeth, but she did not miss the fact that he had entered her cell alone. Although Shepard was still wearing her restraints, it would take her only a matter of seconds to rise to her feet and snap his scrawny neck. She was pondering whether the reprisals would be worth it when she saw his customary obnoxious demeanour slip. He cast a quick glance toward the two-way mirror before setting his narrow shoulders determinedly. Shepard could only stare in disbelief as he drew darted across the room toward her with furtive movements. He seized her wrists and swiftly deactivated the restraints. At the moment that they clattered to the ground, Shepard's response finally kicked in. She surged forward and effortlessly knocked him onto his back. The doctor let out a strangled gasp when she pressed her knee atop his torso and jammed her forearm hard against his throat. His legs kicked beneath her as he tried to free himself.

"You have about twenty seconds before I crush your windpipe," Shepard said in a low voice. "Explain what the hell you're doing."

"No…time!" he gasped.

She applied more pressure. "Not the answer I was looking for."

"Getting you…out of here," Heller wheezed, clawing at her spindly forearm. Without the advantage of gravity, Shepard knew she would not have been able to keep him down. His eyes were bulging with what appeared to be fear. "Two minutes!"

"What about it?" Shepard demanded harshly. She refused to believe a word of what he was saying.

"Gah! Cameras…guards…two minute window!" he spluttered desperately. When Shepard lifted her weight slightly he drew in a wheezing breath and continued. "Every second you spend trying to kill me, is another you could be getting the fuck out of this pit!"

"I think you'll understand why I don't believe a fucking word out of your mouth, you arsehole!" Shepard growled.

"For Christ's sake, the way I treated you...it was all a sham," he pleaded. "My entire family, my goddamn kids...they were taken from the colony on Freedom's Progress by the Collectors. The Alliance didn't do a goddamn thing. The only one who cared was you. You and your crew were too late to save my family, but I knew it was you who stopped the fucking Collectors. Dammit, let me up or you'll kill us both, Commander Shepard."

Shepard did not know why, but she eased the pressure on his neck and eventually rolled away altogether. She was still regarding him warily when he scrambled to his feet with surprising dexterity. He withdrew something from his pocket and held it out for her to take.

"Omni-tool," he said quickly, handing over the device. His gaze darted over his shoulder. "I've got weapons and clothing stashed one floor up. Have I convinced you sufficiently?"

"No," Shepard growled. She rose to her feet and tested the device by flash-forging an omni-blade. "But I'll give you an opportunity to convince me further before I bury this in your chest. Lead the way, Dr Heller."

Less than a minute later, everything that had happened had still not managed to sink in. Shepard found herself squeezed into a narrow service elevator of the type usually reserved for food and tools as opposed to people. Her limbs were folded close against her body and Heller was pressed up against her, his elbow jamming into her ribs. He was so close she could feel his hot, panicked breaths falling on her cheek. Being in such close proximity to the man still made her skin crawl, but a dangerous element of hope was taking hold at the back of her mind.

"Why now?" Shepard demanded in a whisper. "Has something changed?"

"I don't know exactly…but something big has happened," Heller wheezed, already out of breath despite the short distance they had covered. "The military types are nervous. There's been increasing mentions of 'termination.' Although you're just a dumb grunt, surely I don't need to spell that out what that means for you."

"Forgive me if I'm sceptical, Heller-"

"You can be as sceptical as you want when we're out of here, until then I'm going to need you to be our muscle. In case you haven't realised, I'm a doctor not a marine," Heller insisted.

"And I'm not exactly in peak condition!" Shepard hissed as the dumbwaiter finally ground to a halt.

She helped Heller manually slide the door open. When they extracted themselves from the narrow space, Shepard saw that they were in decent-sized kitchen. There were no personnel in sight but a dirty food preparation surface indicated that someone had been in there recently. Ignoring the fact that her bare feet were freezing, Shepard followed Heller. The doctor was thoroughly crap at the art of stealth as his footsteps made audible sounds on the tiles and his breathing was more than loud enough to give them away. Shepard on the other hand moved gracefully, the omni-tool clasped firmly in her palm for quick deployment.

It was her keen awareness that saw movement beyond the kitchen door. Before Heller could react, Shepard surged forward past him. As soon as the door opened and a body moved through the gap, she used her slight body weight to draw the person through. Without pausing to assess what she was up against, Shepard drove her elbow forward and sent the main sprawling. Although she felt a brief moment of hesitation, she extended her omni-blade and buried it deep in the man's chest, through the blue of his Alliance uniform. While Heller uttered a surprised squawk behind her, Shepard clamped her hand over the soon-to-be-dead man's mouth. She knew she could have just as easily crushed his windpipe with her artificial hand, but the thought of doing that felt strangely repulsive. His bright green eyes bulged as bloody bubbled between his lips and her clenched fingers. Shepard forced herself to meet the young man's gaze as he died – wondering briefly if he actually knew what they had done to her or if he was just doing his job.

"You killed him!" Heller whispered in horror as Shepard dragged his body and shoved it beneath one of the counters.

"He was a soldier," Shepard replied. She needed to stay cold or she would fall to pieces. "Death happens."

Heller glanced at his chrono. "The shit's about to hit the fan in less than thirty seconds, depending on how vigilant the next shift is, we may have longer if they don't realise you're gone." He led the way out of the kitchen and into a service corridor.

"They'll know the cameras have been tampered with," Shepard suggested. "I wouldn't reckon on more time."

"Possibly," Heller said as he moved into an awkward run. He eventually paused outside a door and yanked it open, ushering Shepard inside. "I think haste is of the essence regardless." As Shepard ducked inside, Heller paused in the open doorway. "You'll find warm clothes and a pistol in that black bag. Once you're dressed activate your omni, I've pre-loaded the schematics for this level. Follow the route I've marked out…do not deviate! Don't trust anyone else…and certainly not that twisted bitch Stone."

Shepard frowned as she tugged on a pair of boots. "Stone? But-"

"Especially not Stone!" Heller hissed abruptly. "You may think you have her wrapped around your finger, but that woman is all monster – she's playing you, Shepard."

_What the hell kind of game is that?_ Shepard asked herself – confused as to why the blonde would bother to toy with her in such a manner. She shrugged off the uneasiness that played at the back of her mind. "Where the hell are you going?"

"If I don't take down the defence grid, the shuttle won't be able to get in close enough to lift you off," he explained. "The personnel on duty tonight had a little something extra in their evening meal so they'll be very cooperative."

"To lift me off?" Shepard asked. Her damned fingers wouldn't stop trembling as she strapped the boots up. "What about you?"

Heller actually managed a normal smile. "This was never going to end well for me, Commander Shepard. Once you get outside, I've pre-programmed a beacon into your omni. It'll signal the shuttle. You'll just have to pray that I managed to disable the grid or it'll be a fucking short trip."

"I don't pray, doc. Just make sure you get it done." Shepard finished with her boots and drew out a heavy coat. It was thermal lined, but she would have preferred body armour – a chestplate at the least. "Where the hell are we anyway?"

"Alberta, Canada," Heller replied bluntly. "So you'll be glad of it once you get outside." He glanced again at his chrono. "It'll take me two minutes to get to the grid, another three to get it down. I'll barricade myself in the control room but at the most you've got seven…maybe eight minutes to get out. Good luck, Commander Shepard."

Shepard checked the thermal clip on the Predator he'd given her. She had to resist the urge to shoot him for old time's sake. "I guess I should thank you."

"I had a family once…" Heller sighed with regret. "You can thank me by getting the hell out of here."

As Heller disappeared down a corridor without a glance over his shoulder, Shepard could not shake the awful thought that the whole thing was some sort of sick game. However as she brought up the schematics on her omni, she banished such fears to the back of her mind and began moving.

Shepard realised just how fragile she was when she tried to maintain a brisk jog. The heavy jacket and boots weighed her down at every step. Each breath burned painfully in her chest and she doubted whether she would even be able to lift the pistol if she ran into any Alliance personnel. The death of the young man in the kitchen still ate away at her conscience. How old had he looked? Early twenties? Even younger? Her lungs rattled in her chest as she drew deeper breaths. She knew without a doubt that she would kill as many people as it took to see Liara again. As far as she was concerned, everyone was guilty whether they were a marine or a goddamn kitchen hand.

Somewhere in the compound she imagined the brief moment of panic that would happen when they discovered she was missing from her cell. She knew with certainty that it would be brief and quickly replaced by a ruthless efficiency that would not end until they had hunted her down. Shepard was under absolutely no illusion as to the severity of the consequences if she failed to escape.

Shepard paused as the map on her omni led her into a dim open space full crates and what looked like discarded tech. The only illumination came from the dull red glow of power-save lights overhead. It was barely enough to see by at first, but her vision soon became accustomed enough to maintain her pace. She checked her distance. There was a maintenance shaft less than fifty metres ahead of her. It would be a long climb to the surface, but if Heller had been able to carry out his task then she would have a chance. She felt it again, the potentially dangerous pulse of hope.

_If Heller actually pulls this off, I might have to think about naming one of my kids Bryan_, Shepard mused as she squeezed her body through a narrow gap between two crates. Even though there was very little to her, the bulky coat meant she had difficulty fitting. She heard the hiss of fabric ripping as she caught herself on a jagged piece of metal. Before she could arrest its momentum, a heavy but precariously balanced piece of tech came crashing downwards. _Shit!_

Although Shepard darted out of the way, the resulting crash reverberated around the space. She continued moving forward when a familiar shape caught the corner of her eye. Shepard was aware of the urgency of the situation, but she turned to see a familiar elegant, slender body suspended between two shackles. Had the individual been human, the position would have been immeasurably painful. However she was not.

"My god," Shepard whispered in abject horror as she stopped moving altogether. With her mouth parted, she faced the helpless form suspended in front of her. Although her once unblemished carapace was pitted and cracked, the form was unmistakable. The optical visor that usually hovered in front of her blank eyes was absent. As Shepard rose to her feet, the figure lifted her head to look up at her Commander. "EDI."

The A.I opened her mouth to communicate, but all that emerged was a mechanical sound from which no real words could be discerned. With her escape temporarily paused, Shepard scrambled forward over the detritus littering the floor and stopped in front of EDI. Her gaze roamed over the shackles that held each of her arms, searching for some means of release. There was another grating metallic sound as EDI again tried to speak – a series of clicks and whirrs were punctuated by high-pitched tones. Although the A.I's face was as expressionless as ever, Shepard projected her own pain and frustration.

"...leave zzzz..."

The single abrupt word caught Shepard off guard. She shook her head stubbornly as she clambered atop a nearby crate to examine the shackles. "I'll be damned if I'm going to leave you here," Shepard hissed fiercely.

The whirrs and clicks hummed in an agitated song. "Comman...save yourzzzz...plzzz-" EDI's voice cut out, but her head continued to move from side to side as though she was shaking her head.

"No, you're part of my crew, EDI."

Shepard finally located a series of circuits atop the shackle. She shorted one with a tech burst from the omni-tool. A sudden flare of sparks was accompanied by a wrenching sound as EDI's right hand came free. The A.I fell, her body jerking as her feet hit the floor.

"Shepard, you must...leave," she insisted, her voice suddenly clearer. "I am not...fulzzz functional. Motor controlzz are...zzz offline."

"Dammit, EDI, I'll carry you!" Shepard said as she scrambled to the second shackle. However even as the words left her lips, she knew that there was no way she could possibly haul EDI up the maintenance shaft in her current state. It would have been a tall ask had she been fully fit and wearing her hardsuit. "Are you still in contact with the _Normandy_?" Shepard asked as she recharged her omni for a second burst.

"Negative, when my mobile platform was damaged I lost integration. Zzzzz shadow...of my program remains within the platform but it is...fragmented...brokenzzz," EDI explained. "…worthless."

Shepard opened her mouth to refute the AI's assertion when the lights came on without warning, illuminating every corner of the previously dark space. She heard a sudden, loud crack pierce the cold air. Almost instantaneously something slammed violently into her right shoulder. Her entire body pirouetted through the air – almost gracefully at first until she came crashing down hard on the floor at EDI's feet.

_I've been shot_, was the thought that registered as she dragged her body behind cover. _No shit, Ev. _"Fuck!" She hissed as pain laced throughout her entire body. Shepard heard heavy boots thudding urgently on the other on the other side of the space. Although she had difficulty trying to make her limbs respond the way they were supposed to, her numb fingers fumbled for the Predator jammed into the pocket of her coat. She forced her fingers to curl around the hilt and she drew it out. With barely a glance, Shepard fired several shots over the crate. Frantic shouts followed as her pursuers dove for cover.

The first thought that entered her mind was that Heller had led her into the suspected trap, but when she peered over the crate she caught a glimpse of her rescuer being forced to his knees in the distance. The doctor's face was a bloody, almost unrecognisable pulp and she felt a sharp pang of regret as she sank back into cover.

Her soldier's mind analysed the situation within a short space of time. The shot to her shoulder, although agonising, was merely a flesh wound and not bleeding profusely enough to require staunching. With the lights up she could clearly see the entrance to the maintenance tunnel only a few metres from her current position. There was however little chance that she would be able to make it that far. Her glance had confirmed at least half a dozen pursuers, if not more. A shot pinged off the top of the crate, scant centimetres from her head. Shepard responded with a scattering of her own shots. Most were only cursorily aimed, but she heard at least a few grunts of pain and one sharp cry.

"She...pard." Shepard glanced upward to find EDI looking down at her. She knew that the AI's face was technically expressionless, but she could not deny that there was something very human in the way her eyes were half-lidded and her lips left parted. "Go," EDI urged, her finally voice crystal clear.

Again the stubborn shake of her head. "I'm not leaving you behind!" Shepard hissed. Despite the vehemence of her voice and her gestures, the impossibility of saving her crewmember was dawning on her. _Shit...EDI, would I leave anyone else behind in this place?_ _Joker...I didn't leave Joker behind._

A scattering of gunfire burst over her head. Shepard responded – this time with only two carefully aimed shots which brought down one target. She knew that they were boxing her in. Her time in which to do anything was fast running out. The difficulty lay in the fact that Shepard had no solution to her current predicament. At least not until she saw EDI make a casting motion with her free hand. From the other end of the warehouse there was the sudden sound of panic. The gunfire was no longer directed at her but at EDI's decoy as it shocked those closest to it with a stunning attack.

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard murmured in the moments before she broke cover.

Without risking a glance behind her, she threw everything she had into the sprint for the maintenance shaft. Her body slammed into the narrow gap. When she expected to feel gunfire tearing through her unprotected flesh, there was instead the ear shattering sound of an explosion behind her. Shepard focused on the ladder in front of her and putting hand over hand to climb. The screams of wounded and dying soldiers served only to drive her upwards faster.

Shepard lost track of how many rungs she grasped. She climbed until the fingers of her right hand were raw and there was almost no strength left in her limbs. Although she stubbornly tried to ignore her wounded shoulder, it became impossible when it sent stabbing pains radiating out across her chest. She forced down the sense of futility in her gut, instead concentrating on one moment after the other. The map on her omni continued to mark out the path and she took turns and various ladders as indicated. Eventually she heard the sounds of pursuit somewhere behind her. The hatch was within sight, it was locked but Heller had obviously pre-programmed the code. When she approached it flashed to green. She threw her body against it, trying to force it upwards. The meagre weight almost threatened to defeat her. The irony was not lost on her as she struggled – so close to freedom only to be denied by the last hatch. With a frustrated scream, Shepard pushed with her shoulders and finally managed to force it upwards.

When she burst through the hatch, Shepard threw herself over the edge. In a tangle of limbs and broken undergrowth, her body crashed down a small slope. At the same time she felt something unfamiliar assault her nostrils – the smell of fresh air. With a grunt of effort she drove herself to her feet and started running. Nothing would work like it was supposed to. Despite the fact that she knew what movements she needed to make to run, her legs felt as though they were working against her. They splayed out at awkward angles, her toes catching on roots and sending her crashing to the ground more than once.

As she ran, Shepard took in the thickly wooden terrain. Towering sentinel-like trees hemmed her in and pressed down on her from above. She pushed herself down a steep, rocky slope. Her legs were moving too fast for any sort of control but she wasn't in a position to care about breaking her ankle. The fact that she had no idea where the hell she was going was far more pressing. Heller had said that there would be a shuttle, but he had also said that he would take down the defence grid. Shouts rang out much too close behind her. Somewhere overhead she heard the distinct whine of a Kodiak drop shuttle. The familiar sound brought back a flood of memories. It seemed like a different time when she'd had the bulky reassurance of her hardsuit and squadmates at her back. She had only ever needed a quick glance over her shoulder to confirm that Liara was with her. The asari's sapphire blue gaze would shine with exhilaration as she responded with a firm nod.

_Liara_.

Shepard was spent. Her ravaged body was close to giving up altogether but she pushed herself forward until she was almost beneath the shuttle hovering above. The prospect of leaving the underground hellhole behind her was so close, she could not suppress the rampant hope that surged through her body. The shuttle was dropping into a clearing so small its side almost scraped against the foliage surrounding it.

Before she could sigh with relief, her question as to whether Heller had managed to take the grid offline was answered. One moment the shuttle was making a controlled descent, the next it was falling in flames. Shepard froze. It was as though the image was flash-burned into her mind. Although she was aware that the Alliance was closing in on her rapidly she could not make her legs work again, or summon the willpower to fight for her life. Shepard dropped to one knee. She had to force herself to draw in great, gulping breaths just to keep from blacking out. Her eyes slid closed. She saw everything in reverse – the burning shuttle, her failure to save EDI, and the nauseating helplessness that had become her life. Before that the war had consumed her life to the point where she had died twice.

_Who the hell fucking dies twice? Most people have the good sense to stay dead. _

However throughout that time Shepard had been given the opportunity to know what it felt like to feel complete. At the moment that Dr Liara T'Soni had fallen into her arms on Therum, her life had been already falling apart, but she had found something to anchor herself to, a reason to push through. Regardless of how exhausted she was, she owed it to herself and Liara to not give up. Shepard reached out and placed her hand on a nearby tree, feeling the bark dig into the raw flesh of her palm. She gripped and dragged herself back to her feet as her eyes opened. Her legs started to work. It was more of a drunken stumble than a run, but she was moving.

Up ahead she heard the sound of water. It was little more than a quiet murmur at first. However as she drew closer, the murmur became a rumble. Shepard pushed toward it and the rumble developed into an almost deafening roar. Even thought she could not see it, she could feel that it was close.

_Bad idea, Ev. _Although it was the only decision she could make, it didn't mean that it was a good one. _I know you like swimming, but this is a really...really bad idea_.

However as the first gunfire started punching holes in the trees around her, Shepard knew that she had no choice. When the time came to throw herself over the edge, she did so without hesitation. Her body launched out over the chasm, seeming to hover above the churning white mess below for a split second. For that brief flash of time she finally felt free. In the next instant she was falling. When she hit the water it felt like she'd slammed into a hard surface – like stone.

* * *

Dr Naomi Stone stepped into the blast radius created by the AI's exploding decoy. A sneer ruined her otherwise beautiful features as she stared at the shattered bodies by her feet. Her fingers curled into fiercely clenched fists, firm enough to drive her nails into her palm. She glanced over her shoulder and her face twisted further when she saw a grotesque grin on the face of the man kneeling behind her. He was rapidly obscured from view as two squads of soldiers filed into the room.

She scowled when they simply stood and stared, awaiting her orders. "For fuck's sake, beta squad get your cocks out of each other's arses and hunt that bitch down!"

As they moved out and Stone turned her attention to Heller, an insistent beeping sounded from her omni-tool. With a frustrated growl torn from the back of her throat, she opened it.

_{Status, Dr Stone?}_ The male voice on the other end was hard and uncompromising.

"Shepard will be under control momentarily," Stone informed him in a hard voice. _Damn you, Heller_, she ground her back teeth together. _You had to choose now to grow a goddamn spine!_

_{I don't need to tell you what it will mean for you if Shepard manages to escape,}_ he continued.

Stone was unfazed. "She's wounded and unconditioned, she won't get far. And the traitorous bastard Heller?"

_{Deal with him,}_ was the swift response.

Stone looked up at the nearest Alliance marine. She merely jerked her head toward the now trembling doctor.

A low growl emerged from Heller's throat. "The Alliance will never get away with this. Whatever it is that's got you all pissing your pants, it's out there now. Shepard has friends and-"

A spray of blood and brain matter erupted from the back of Heller's head. Stone looked down in disgust as some hit her white trouser leg. The dead man's body pitched forward. His eyes were still open and staring in some sort of accusation.

"Oh Bryan," Stone smirked, poking at Heller's body with the toe of her shoe. "You misguided fool. I assure you, our secret is not out there."

_{And Dr Stone?} _There was a brief pause on the other end of the comm._ {__You have my permission to break Shepard. I don't care if there's nothing left after you've finished with her. She's a liability.}_

"Yes, sir." Despite her failure, Stone could not restrain the glee in her tone. She powered down her omni-tool and turned to the remaining squad of soldiers. "Get the hell outside with the rest of the grunts. I want Shepard found within the hour."

She closed her eyes, listening until the last footsteps had faded from her hearing. Once alone, Stone walked the length of the warehouse. Eventually she came to stand in front of the female-like form still trapped by its arm. The thing regarded her without any trace of expression on its ruined face. It sickened Stone that such an abomination had been allowed to roam unshackled.

"Does the phrase 'melted down for scrap' mean anything to you?" Stone murmured – speaking more to herself than the thing in front of her.

It cocked its head to one side. A series of undecipherable sounds emerged before actual words formed. "I would ask you the same question, except to alter the phrase to 'dead meat'?"

* * *

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

Liara watched the soft blue glow given off by her biotic corona as it danced above her fingertips. Although she was controlling the field to an extent, the curls and wisps of dark energy created a unique pattern of their own accord. She stood, watching and marvelling at the power she held. The simple act was something Liara had not done since she was young. However she remembered how it had served as a focal point for her thoughts or something beautiful to stare at in an otherwise dull, dark space.

The training program began slowly. It was a necessity given the ordeal her body was still trying to recover from. She went through an exaggerated motion with her first Throw, sending it arcing across the space only to miss the target. Liara paused and drew a breath as she lined up the next one. Her second attack also went wide. They were both only narrow misses, but in the heat of combat such mistakes were often the difference between life and death.

_Focus, T'Soni, _she urged herself. For a few seconds, Liara closed her eyes. Flashes of light pierced her eyelids as the next targets formed. The split second she opened them she forced herself to ignore the need for a cooldown and threw two successive Warp attacks. Both slammed into the dead centre of their respective targets. _That's more like it_.

As the program continued, gradually building in intensity and complexity, Liara began to feel at ease with the movements. It was like slipping back into an old suit she had not worn for some time only to find that her body had changed and it no longer fit as perfectly as it once did. Subtle alterations were needed before she could find a sense of familiar comfort.

In the wake of Aegir's attempt to turn her into a Banshee, Liara had not paused to analyse the effects of the treatment on her biotics. She had first-hand experience that something crucial had changed based merely on the abilities that had suddenly manifested in her repertoire. The biotic charge was, by its very nature, a violently offensive tactic that her old self would have shunned. However during the Battle for Earth and the brutal fight for Omega she had employed it to devastating effect. Her combat style had changed from biotic support to something she had difficulty describing – it was visceral, risky and so far removed from what she once was that she had difficulty recognising herself. There was almost nothing left of the reclusive archaeologist she had been just several years earlier.

Liara's arm snapped downwards, executing another attack with clipped precision. _Should I be grateful to Shepard's memory for what I have become…or resentful? _Had the Reapers not begun their cycle of destruction, Liara was almost certain that she would still be that individual - scratching around underground in ruins no one else cared about, writing papers that no one read and altogether ignorant of the exquisite pain of loving someone like Shepard - a bright, vibrant flame that scorched everything in its path.

When the initial program ended, a thin sheen of sweat had started to form on her brow but her heart rate had barely increased above its usual resting state. Liara's lust for exertion remained vastly unsatisfied. She padded across to the controls in her bare feet. Although Mack's compound still maintained a temperature that seemed only a few degrees above freezing, she was clad simply in a sleeveless vest that had once belonged to Shepard and a pair of thermal tights. After spending much of the past few days wearing thick jumpers and bundled beneath blankets, the freedom of movement was appreciated. Although she knew that Mack would not approve, she selected one of the most challenging programs and returned to the centre of the room.

This time there was no gradual increase in tempo. As soon as the program commenced, the targets crowded every angle of her vision. There was no time for grace or flair as her movements instead became precise out of necessity. She lost all sense of time as the sweat and heart rate that she had been striving for finally took hold. The beads formed at the nape of her neck and trickled down her back, soaking Shepard's vest.

As the target lights danced around her body, often managing to dart in close before she could deal with them, Liara found a sense of peace that had eluded her during previous workouts. All too often, although she pushed herself to the limits of her endurance, she still had the strength to succumb to an irrational anger. This time it was absent, replaced by a sense of clarity that heightened her senses and gave her an edge despite her weakened physical state.

Liara could pinpoint almost the exact movement at which her serenity shifted. She had attempted a few biotic charges already without ill effect. However when she prepared to throw herself forward again, an opposing force slammed into her. As she aborted the charge her body was literally thrown backwards. Liara stumbled, her legs refusing to work properly before they gave out on her altogether. Her knees hit the ground hard. As she knelt on the cold floor, Liara struggled to process what was happening despite an unrelenting familiarity tugging at her mind. Whatever she was feeling, she was supposed to know it intimately. Yet at the same time something was very wrong.

The darkened room disappeared as her mind slipped into a meld-like state that she had never experienced before. Liara caught snatches of experiences or memories from someone. She found herself struggling for breath as water forced its way into her lungs. It was as though she were drowning in the middle of her compound. Understanding came only when it was too late. At the moment that she was about to black out, her mind finally touched on the elusive, distant partner to the meld. The contact was fleeting, but Liara needed very little to know emphatically who it was. It was the bright burning flame. The other half of her self.

"Evan!"

In that split second everything was torn apart. Her fragile sense of reality crumpled as the rules were suddenly changed. She pitched forward and vomited violently on the floor in front of her. For almost a minute her stomach continued to heave even though there was nothing more to expel. When she finally drew in a gasping breath, the hope that ought to have been soaring throughout her body was muted.

"Goddess….Evan." The whisper grated against her raw throat. _Evan, for the love of the Goddess please hold on. I'm coming for you. I promise! _There was a brutal disconnect and the meld ended without Liara knowing if Shepard had heard her words.

Behind her she heard the door to the room open and urgent footsteps pounded on the floor. Suddenly Mack was there, gathering her limp body up into his arms. His presence served as an anchor back to her reality. Liara was acutely aware of the stench of vomit clogging her nostrils. She felt nauseous. Even Mack's gentle hold disturbed her. In a sudden display of strength, she wrestled free from his grasp and stood on trembling legs.

"I told you not to push yourself, kiddo," Mack said as he looked up at her with a sympathetic expression on his face.

Liara shook her head. "I didn't push myself." The voice did not sound as though it were her own. It was emotionless, cold. "Shepard is alive."

Mack stared at her incredulously. "Liara…you're only torturing yourself further-"

"Shepard is alive!" Liara hissed between clenched teeth.

Mack was left to scramble to his feet as she suddenly moved past him at a brisk walk. She ignored the chill that had descended over her body in the wake of cooling sweat and left the room. The New Zealander could only watch in disbelief as she returned to the tech that had done nothing but lie dormant. With single-minded determination, she reconnected the power cable. He could see her shivering slightly with the cold, but she was so far removed from caring that she did not notice. As the terminals slowly began to show signs of life, Mack went to retrieve one of his cardigans that he had left lying around. She did not even appear to notice as he placed the over-sized garment around her slender shoulders.

"Kiddo," he began uncertainly. "I'm not so sure this is good for you. What happened to make you think Shepard is alive?"

"I don't know where the hell she is, who has her, or exactly what they've done to her-" Liara felt the knot of fear twist painfully in her stomach. It took every scrap of her focus to keep from falling apart "-but I know unequivocally that she _is_ alive." The haptic interface finally awakened and Liara's fingers began a frenetic dance. "I will find her, and I can promise that whoever has her will live long enough only to profoundly regret their actions…and know exactly what it feels like to be flayed alive."

* * *

**A/N:** Grateful thanks to owelpost and BA Tanglepaw for their invaluable assistance with this particular chapter - both of whom are exceptionally talented and amazing.


	10. Triple Word Score

**Chapter Ten **  
**Triple Word Score**

**Melbourne, Australia**

_Three fucking days_. Ashley Williams was unable to keep the bitterness from her thoughts as she mulled over the pathetic amount of time that she had been permitted to spend with her lover. Granted it had been three fucking amazing days, but it was a great deal less than the week's leave that she'd been promised and there had been far less fucking than she had planned.

With an impatient snort, Ashley eventually gave up standing at attention and folded her arms across her chest. When she glanced at the time on her omni-tool, she saw with some disgust that she had already been kept waiting for almost forty-five minutes. She ceased standing in front of the large desk in the room and crossed to the window. The floor to ceiling pane of glass offered her a bird's eye view on Alliance Defence Headquarters, Melbourne. While most of the functional tower block that she was currently in had already been completed, she could make out ant-like figures labouring an equally soulless building adjacent. Some attempts had been made at planting spindly trees in the plaza far below, but greenery was otherwise largely absent in this post-war world. Having grown up on a colony world covered in lush forests, Ashley missed the colour green desperately. She idly wondered whether this new world would be dominated by concrete, glass and steel. If that was the case, then she could not wait to return to the darkness of space and the reassuring familiarity of the _Normandy_.

It was hardly the inappropriate moment, but Ash allowed her thoroughly bored mind to ruminate on the sort of life she wanted to share with Miranda. Beyond the initially disastrous conversation about kids and an acknowledgement that they actually had a future together, they had not made any plans. Ash knew that if she wanted to remain in the military, then she would have to come clean on her relationship with the ex-Cerberus Agent. It would no doubt be potentially damning to any further career progression for either of them.

_I shake off one Williams curse_, Ash mused sardonically_. Only to invent another one all of my own_.

She couldn't deny the attractiveness of leaving the Alliance behind altogether. The prospect of returning to Sirona, finding a house like the one she'd grown up in and raising a family seemed to be the ideal dream. _And it's going to stay a dream_, she told herself firmly. _Miranda would be bored out of her mind on Sirona and the two of you would tear each other to pieces_. Almost instinctively, Ash activated her omni-tool. She scrolled through several files and selected the one she needed to see. Taken just the previous evening, the picture neatly captured the ebullient atmosphere she remembered. While Abby was primly trying to take a decent picture with her omni – beaming smile fixed firmly in place – the rest of the subjects were less cooperative. She and Lynn were engaged in some sort of tussle, neither looking at the camera. Miranda sat stiffly at her side, looking at the camera but obviously unsure whether to smile or grimace. With a grin forming, Ash reached up and mimed brushing her fingers against Miranda's flawless face.

"Making yourself at home?"

Utilising every iota of her carefully honed reactions, Ash deactivated her omni and whipped her body around to stand at attention. She had to make a conscious effort to maintain her non-expression when she found herself staring at the bronzed visage of Captain Cristiane Alves.

"Yes, ma'am!" Ashley snapped off a reply before she allowed herself time to think. _Shit_. "I mean, no, ma'am." _Now would be a brilliant time to stop talking_. She'd never been any good at taking her own advice. "With all due respect, I've been waiting in here for almost an hour."

Alves raised her eyebrows as she crossed behind the desk. Rather than fold her lithe body into the chair, she remained standing with her gaze fixed very squarely on Ashley. Without glancing downwards, she picked up a datapad that had been sitting on the table in front of her. She remained silent. The only sound in the room was the absent tapping of one of her nails against the side of the datapad.

"You were requested to report at 0900, Lieutenant-Commander. You turned up at 1000. I had another appointment scheduled for 1000, hence the hour long wait. Were your orders not sufficiently clear enough?" Alves asked, her voice betraying little emotion.

Ashley could practically hear her own teeth grinding. "No, ma'am, crystal."

"Then would you care to explain?"

_What, explain that I was late due to a last minute fuck with my girlfriend? You'd love that wouldn't you?_ Ashley contemplated behind mask of her own. "I lost track of time saying goodbye to my family. It won't happen again."

The Captain's facial muscles finally moved, one corner of her mouth curled upwards into a small smile. "At ease, Williams. Before you burst a goddamn blood vessel."

Although she shifted her stance, Ash did not return the smile or allow herself to relax. With the datapad in hand, Alves moved back around the front of the desk and took up a casual position leaning against it. In doing so, she positioned herself awkwardly close to Ash. There was very little the marine could do in response without her discomfort showing. Instead she was forced to meet Alves' disconcertingly vibrant gaze. The Captain's dark eyes flashed in accompaniment to her smile.

"I trust your family are well?" she asked. The emotionless voice was no longer, replaced by a perfectly friendly tone that could have belonged to an old squadmate.

Taken off guard by the person nature of the question, it took Ash several moments before she could formulate a response. "They are, ma'am. Thank you."

Alves shook her head slowly. "Drop the 'ma'am', Williams. You say it with such disdain that you might as well just not bother."

As the Captain's smile broadened, Ashley wondered if she was being patronised. She remembered the feeling all too well from her years as an enlisted woman. With the Williams curse ensuring that she consistently received the least desirable postings, she was also guaranteed to end up with NCOs and officers who were far from the best the Alliance had to offer. While some were just stupid, others were openly sadistic and delighted in tormenting the lives of those serving under them. While Ash had expected to endure a certain amount of KP duty, lung-sucking hill slogs and dressing-downs by meat-headed buffoons during her time in boot, she had not expected it to continue when she earned her place in the corps. Ash resisted the urge to find solace in anger. Alves was certainly not a meat-headed buffoon, but nor was she someone that Ash was about to trust – regardless of the uniform she was wearing.

"Abby…Lynn, and Sarah. Am I correct?" Alves continued.

_Why would she bother with that kind of homework?_ Ash asked herself as she nodded. "Yes, ma-" She thankfully cut herself short. Nor was she eager to offer the other woman any further information on her sisters.

"You're lucky. There would be very few families who made it through the war intact," Alves mused in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ashley couldn't detect any hint of empathy in her voice. Although she was the Butcher of Torfan after all. It wouldn't be a stretch to imagine that she was simply incapable of it. She was annoyed at herself for her poor recollection of the facts – she could remember hearing that the casualties on both sides had been catastrophic. The incident had also put the Alliance in a bad light – the story of the slaughter of Batarians following their surrender had run rampant across all the news agencies. While Ash had no great love of Batarians, she did take issue with besmirching proud military tradition and honour. Then Ash remembered Miranda's brief mention of Alves' being the sole survivor of a massacre somewhere. Had it been Mindoir?

"Boyfriend, Williams?"

"Ma'am?" Ashley spluttered, the question catching her completely off guard. She stared open-mouthed at Alves while she waited expectantly for her answer.

Alves' eyebrows lifted in response to Ash's silence. "Girlfriend?"

"Um…no." Ashley hoped that her awkward response led Alves to conclude that she was 100% straight as opposed to lying to a superior officer. She belatedly realised that both her hands had clenched into white-knuckled fists. Relaxing quickly, she restored her professional demeanour. "I hate to fit the stereotype, but I'm married to the corps." She then had to content herself with keeping a lid on the response she really wanted to make. _With all due respect, _ma'am_, you can fuck off. It's none of the Alliance's business who I'm fucking. Even if the _Alliance_ in this case is the bloody Butcher of Torfan herself. _

It was difficult to tell whether her response piqued Alves' interest or not. Immediately following the response, her expression shifted back to the professional mask she had worn whilst berating Ash earlier. She extended the datapad toward Ash and motioned for her to take it from her. As she accepted, Ash felt something akin to an electric charge when their fingers touched for a split second. Nothing on Alves' face gave away whether the contact had been intentional or not.

"Dossiers," she announced almost harshly. "On your new crew. Most of them will be arriving in Melbourne over the next few days. We've given you some seasoned hands to balance out those who are fresh out of boot. Your new XO in particular saw a great deal of action during the war, twice decorated for gallantry – the perfect man to join the crew of the _Normandy_."

_I'll be the judge of that_, Ash thought as she gave the introductory material a cursory glance. A frown creased her brow as she noticed something. "It says here that the _Normandy_ isn't scheduled to depart until the 7th." The date was still over a week away. "With all due respect, my leave was cut short. I expected an urgent mission, not being called in to sit on my ass in port for a week."

If she was speaking out of turn, Ash didn't care. She met the Captain's stare with one of her own, pleased to notice that she was noticeably taller and that Alves was forced to look up at her.

"You won't be sitting on your ass as you so eloquently put it. You'll also find in there a schedule of media and PR appearances for yourself. It's the trade-off for being allowed back in the field I'm afraid." Alves did not sound particularly apologetic about it. The smile returned as she closed the already insignificant gap between them. "Interviews and recruitment drives – easy enough. Just be your charming self, Williams."

_My charming self? Obviously she doesn't know me_. On top of her anger at being made into a show pony, Ash was still confused as to exactly what kind of game Alves was playing. She had absolutely no desire to play games with the Butcher of Torfan – none whatsoever. A house on Sirona, kids and buttermilk pancakes were starting to look more appealing with each passing moment.

She was on the cusp of making a decisive step backwards when the office door flew inwards in a spectacular fashion. Her step became a stumble and the smug smile was wiped from Alves' face in a heartbeat when she saw the bulky figure of Fleet Admiral Kessler stride into the room. With consummate professionalism, Ash recovered quickly and snapped into yet another smart salute. In contrast, Alves merely leaned nonchalantly against the desk as though annoyed at the interruption.

"Williams." Kessler's single, curt word could hardly be called a greeting. "I need to speak with Captain Alves alone – immediately."

"Yes sir." Ashley couldn't make her reply quickly enough. While she wasn't overly astute at interpreting people, Kessler was doing a crap job of concealing his agitation. Combined with Alves' behaviour, Ash was grateful to escape the office. With the datapad tucked beneath her arm, she left without a glance behind her.

Although she made no move to linger and eavesdropping on the pair had not actually crossed her mind, Kessler's next words were spoken in haste as she closed the door behind her.

"We have a serious situation in Alberta!" His frustration and anger were obvious.

For some reason Ashley's curiosity was piqued. As much as she dared, she slowed the speed at which she closed the door.

"What the hell has happened?" Alves demanded. Her tone made Ash wonder exactly who was the superior officer out of the pair.

"She's escaped," Kessler replied.

"What? Fuck! I thought Dr Stone had everything under control?" Alves replied, unable to keep the surprise from her own voice.

The door clicked shut as it eventually had to do and the conversation was reduced to little more than urgent murmurs. For a few moments Ash paused and strained to make out what they were saying before her behaviour caused a passing officer to give her a wary glance. Berating herself for the blatantly unprofessional conduct, Ash moved away from the door at a brisk walk. She glanced down at the datapad in her hands and re-read the instructions as she walked. The overheard conversation was quickly forgotten as she unleashed a string of internal expletives at the thought of her time with Miranda being cut short for no good reason.

_Being recalled so I could go save lives?_ Ash felt like throwing the device against the wall. _That I could have accepted. Being recalled so I can smile and stick my tits out for the fucking cameras...they can all kiss my ass. _

* * *

**Vancouver, Canada**

"No shit," Lynn Williams exclaimed in disbelief.

Both she and Abby watched as Miranda Lawson placed the small plastic tiles on the battered board with almost painstaking precision. When she had finished arranging each of her tiles, she straightened and stared at the pair with a hopeful expression on her face.

"_Chutzpah_?" Abby read the word out whilst slowly shaking her head. She and Lynn glanced at one another and both their shoulders slumped in tandem.

"Yes…it means shameless impudence," Miranda explained with a shrug. "Or extreme self-confidence…" Her voice trailed off in case the sisters thought she was making a thinly veiled reference to herself. She winced. "It _is_ a word."

Lynn whistled through her teeth before she hunched forward on the sofa and began toting up Miranda's score. "The "z" is on a double letter score…thirty-seven, and you've also managed to hit _two_ triple word scores-" Her face scrunched up while she mentally calculated "-that makes…_shit_...three hundred and thirty-three."

"And don't forget the additional fifty points for using all seven of her tiles at once," Abby pointed out helpfully.

"Three hundred and eighty-three?" Lynn announced as she gave Miranda a long, steady stare.

Miranda wondered if she had missed something. "I thought the object of the game was to score as many points as possible?"

"Three hundred and eighty-three? For one bloody word?" Lynn repeated, she threw her pen down and folded her arms around her chest. "Remind me never to play scrabble with you ever again, Miranda Lawson."

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" Miranda asked, looking across to Abby for help. The elder Williams had a broad grin on her face as she watched her scowling sister. _I knew this whole board-game business was a bad idea_, she thought to herself, hastily searching for an excuse that would get her away from the game and out of the room.

"You just riled up the sore-loser, that's all." Abby laughed, patting Lynn on the shoulder in a placating manner. "Take it easy, sis. Admit it; Miranda is better at scrabble than you."

"She's never even played before!" Lynn protested.

Miranda washed her hands of the argument, wondering how something so insignificant could matter so much. Having completely missed out on the highs and lows of competing against siblings, she had no idea how she was supposed to behave. She briefly wondered if she ought not to have played the word to give Lynn a chance at winning. _Then I might have lost_. Given how repugnant that particular thought was, Miranda realised that she too was probably just as sore a loser as Lynn Williams.

"Let's just call it quits and concede that Miranda won?" Abby suggested tactfully. Clearly the diplomat of the family, she had an effortless calm about her that never failed to win people over.

"Loser makes dinner?" Lynn asked hopefully.

Abby paused before nodding reluctantly – she was the one losing by a large margin. Her sister grinned triumphantly and threw her arms outward and around the shoulders of the two women sitting on either side of her. She gave both a hearty squeeze – much to the amusement of one and the discomfort of the other. Even though it was only half a hug, Miranda was unused to anyone other than Ash hugging her. _And Shepard_, she thought with an ache. While a part of her appreciated the gesture, she could not simply allow her body to relax against Lynn's. Liking Ash's sisters was one thing, _loving_ them was something else altogether. Miranda definitely wasn't ready to go there.

She extracted herself from the hug under the pretext of reaching for her bottle of water. Once she had made her escape, Miranda busied herself tidying away the game pieces.

"You aren't up for a rematch?" Lynn asked hopefully.

"Actually, I was thinking of heading out for the afternoon," Miranda replied. As much as she liked the Williams sisters, being cooped up in the boxy little apartment was starting to grate on her. She was in desperate need of fresh air – even if it was just a walk amidst the rubble.

"I wish I could come," Lynn announced with a groan. "But I've a stack of papers that aren't going to grade themselves before school tomorrow." She flopped against her sister's shoulder and closed her eyes. "I can't face those little shits. I think I'm in the wrong line of work."

Miranda was honestly relieved. She didn't want company. That was the whole point of going out for a walk alone. _Or a run_, she thought with sudden enthusiasm.

"Hun, you love those kids," Abby tousled Lynn's hair before she turned to Miranda. "Stick to the main thoroughfares, it can get a bit rough out there sometimes."

Miranda raised her eyebrows. If she was being honest with herself, the thought of cracking the skulls of a couple of miscreants appealed immensely. Following a promise to be careful that at least sounded sincere, she gratefully escaped out onto the streets of Vancouver. She didn't bother with a warm up before breaking into a brisk jog, relieved to find that her muscles had not grown overly stale following a few days of inactivity.

_Not quite inactivity_, Miranda mused as her body settled into a smooth rhythm. Sex with Ash was often just as much of a workout as going for a run or hitting the gym.

A day had passed and she'd heard nothing from Ash. There was the distinct possibility that the _Normandy_ had shipped out already. Although she knew full well that Ash was big enough to take care of herself, Miranda couldn't help but feel the knot of worry that dwelled at the back of her mind attempt to push its way forward. To combat this she pushed her body a little harder. Her legs pumped faster to create a pace that was at the limit of what she could maintain. With her breath coming in loud, controlled bursts, she succeeded in pushing most thoughts from her mind. It became easier to ignore the annoying anxiety and find a measure of peace.

Prior to becoming involved with Ashley Williams, Miranda had always found it effortless to slip into a business-like persona that subsumed everything else. Personal relationships and her own emotions took a back seat to her work. They had seemed trivial when measured against the goal she set for herself – perfection. However even before she met Ash, that life had started to come apart at the seams thanks to another marine. Commander bloody Shepard – grade A self-righteous hero and first-class pain in the arse.

Almost an hour later Miranda had turned to head back to the apartment when she caught sight of someone across the street. She did a double take when she recognised a figure with an all too familiar posture. The woman was walking in the opposite direction and Miranda was forced to turn in order to watch her. She was dressed in an Alliance uniform. Miranda's lips parted in surprise. There was no mistaking the way the woman carried herself, it was almost identical to that of her daughter.

Without knowing entirely what was driving her, Miranda crossed the road and jogged to catch up. "Ma'am? Rear Admiral Shepard?" It was only after she opened her mouth that she realised she had no idea what the hell she was doing.

Miranda had only met Shepard's mother once - at her daughter's funeral. From the scant information Shepard had actually offered, Miranda expected to find a machine as opposed to a mother. However she distinctly remembered Hannah being surprisingly warm in her interactions with the Normandy crew – far warmer than Shepard had let her to expect. Having never known a mother of her own, Miranda felt woefully ill-equipped to analyse the Rear Admirals actions from anything other than a clinical perspective. She had seemed professional, exceptionally intelligent and the very model of an Alliance officer.

When Hannah Shepard turned to face her, it was like a slap in the face. The passage of time made the resemblance between mother and daughter shatteringly painful. Miranda watched the play of emotions across the other woman's face – shifting from uncertainly to astonishment in a matter of seconds. The open reactions were then gone, replaced by a mask that Miranda could not see through. Before their proximity became awkward, Miranda brought her hand up in a salute.

"Ma'am, you may not remember me. I'm-"

"I know exactly who you are," Hannah interrupted swiftly. "What can I do for you, Second-Lieutenant Lawson?"

Miranda was well used to hostility, but she had not expected it to come from Shepard's mother. She was also taken aback that the older woman was aware of the exact progression of her military career – which meant that she had to have been keeping tabs on her. Schooling her own emotions, she squared her shoulders before replying, "I'm sorry, ma'am. My only intent was to-"

"Chat?" Hannah arched one of her immaculately formed eyebrows.

_I don't chat!_ Miranda thought indignantly. The uncertainty of her purpose was blatantly laid bare as she struggled to force anything remotely intelligent past her lips. The manner in which Hannah Shepard stared at her so disdainfully reminded her eerily of the tactics employed by her own father. Miranda was reminded of the way he managed to make her feel like an incompetent failure without so much as opening his mouth. When the Rear Admiral stepped forward into her space, Miranda was driven onto her back foot.

"No, ma'am," Miranda said with a shake of her head.

"Let me make one thing very clear, Lawson," Hannah said coldly. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you near a goddamn Alliance uniform. This institution isn't so desperate that it needs to call on individuals like you to defend humanity. When it comes to that, then we are truly lost."

Miranda stiffened. The words didn't wash over her as effortlessly as she would have hoped. Regardless of her past affiliations, her actions throughout the months and years leading up to the final defeat of the Reapers had been nothing but altruistic. Aside from her pursuit of Ashley, Miranda had done nothing for herself. It had not escaped her mind that she could have found a quiet corner of the galaxy in which to hide, yet she had risked her life to help Shepard. If she hadn't earlier, she now fervently regretted crossing the road.

"Evan didn't share the same sentiment," Miranda replied diplomatically. She delivered Shepard's name like a slap in the face.

An angry response flickered across Hannah's face. She pressed forward again, but Miranda did not move a second time. "If you respect my daughter's memory then you'll walk away from your commission. Surely desertion won't mean anything to you, _Miss_ Lawson." Hannah pressed a hand to Miranda's chest and looked her squarely in the eye, stripping Miranda to the bone with the intensity of her gaze. "Walk away – from the Alliance, from Earth...from _everything_."

Miranda couldn't stop the memories of Ash flooding her senses. _There's no way in hell she knows_, she thought, schooling her face into an unresponsive mask. However even as she struggled with her anxiety, she noticed a subtle change in the pressure against her chest. While it increased, it was not enough to force her to take a step backward.

"With all due respect, ma'am-" Miranda's gaze hardened "-I am not walking away from my commission."

Hannah Shepard shook her head. "It seems as if I have over-estimated your intelligence, Lawson. If you had any respect for my daughter at all then you will consider what I have said. The Alliance isn't the place for you...and Evangeline would have agreed with me." Hannah removed her hand and began backing away. Her lips curved upwards into a cold smile. "Have a nice day."

"Ma'am," Miranda replied in a tight voice.

It wasn't until the Rear Admiral had turned her back and started walking away from her that Miranda realised she was chilled to the bone. The sweat that she had worked up while running had cooled on her skin. She wasted no time in returning to her stride to both restore some warmth to her body and try and relieve some of the tension that griped her body.

Even as she ran she could not escape the feeling of Hannah Shepard's fingers burning into her chest.

* * *

**London, Earth**

David Codrington did not know whether to laugh or cry at the almost comical manner in which his teeth chattered against the glass he was trying to drink out of. He finally managed to drain it to the dregs. He misjudged the edge of the table when he went to place the glass down. It slipped and fell. Although David knew it was coming, his body jerked in shock when the glass smashed against the pre-fab's bare metal flooring.

_Get a grip, Dave_. As he ran a shaking hand through his thinning hair he rose to his feet. He had no purpose for standing other than to start pacing the depressingly tiny length of his living space. From the kitchen table to the edge of his bed was five steps. Back was ten. To the bed again was fifteen. David made it to fifty before he gave up and sat down heavily on the bed. When he stared out at the miserable contents of the pre-fab, it felt as though he was looking at the sum total of his life.

He half-heartedly considered ignoring the curfew and heading out for a walk. He could blag his way through any check points with a lie about an emergency at one of the pumping stations. Perhaps head for one of the underground bars he had frequented a handful of times with Hardy. Anything would be better than sitting alone and waiting.

David did not know precisely what he had expected in the wake of his message to various news agencies, but he had expected _something_. Whether it was a simultaneous frenzy of reporting or simply a throwaway story on the late night bulletin, he had expected someone out there to give a damn that Shepard was alive. Even if none of the outlets had trusted the tip enough to run the story, surely someone would have hounded him for further information. News reporters were supposed to be like dogs with a bone. The Shepard story would have undoubtedly been the biggest to break since the end of the war.

Instead there had been nothing, and David had existed in a sort of limbo. He'd called in sick for work even though there was no such thing as sick pay in a post-war environment. On an inexplicable whim he'd packed everything he could into two duffels and moved out of what had been a reasonably comfortable, brand new apartment. For some reason David could not shake the fact that he was being watched with every move he made. His paranoia had developed to the point where it felt as though he was being _hunted_. He knew he was supposed to have died in the blast that killed Hardy. The fact that he was still alive he simply put down to the fact that they dismissed him as a nobody who posed little threat. Other than send poorly worded messages, what could he do? David supposed he could stand on a street corner proclaiming that Shepard was alive. He snorted at the obvious religious connotation this brought to mind. Everyone would think he was insane.

_I just need a decent night's sleep_, he told himself as he flopped backward onto the bed. _Clear my head, get back to work and face the music. I'll wake up and it'll be like I never found her in that damn tunnel. _Her. Shepard. She haunted what little sleep he did manage to have. Her blue eyes implored him to do something, anything, to help her. David felt sick to the stomach when he realised that he was probably the only person outside of the Alliance who knew that Shepard was alive. Of all the potential people who could have found her, she'd been unlucky enough to be found by the civil engineer with thinning hair, a paunch and virtually no backbone of which to speak. _Sorry, Commander, you definitely lucked out in being found by this slob_.

A sudden knock on the door instantly turned his blood cold. David had told no one where he was going and he had paid a month's rent up front. He highly doubted that one of his neighbours wanted to borrow a pint of milk. Cursing himself for his less than stealthy physique, David manoeuvred off the bed amidst several loud creaks. He felt a palpable terror grip his entire body as he opened the cupboard beside the bed and reached inside. The pistol he'd picked up over the black market sat uncomfortably in his palm. Although he'd had to fire a weapon in anger during the war, the only targets he'd had were Reapers. Opening fire on another person? That was a different prospect altogether.

"Dave?"

The voice was vaguely familiar. David advanced slowly toward the door when a second, harsher knock made him jump again. Although he had maintained an excellent working relationship with his crew, Hardy was the only one he could have actually labelled a 'friend.' Outside of work, there was no one. His heart was pounding like a freight train and every fibre of his being screamed at him not to open the door.

"Hey, Dave? It's Jake – you in there, mate?"

_Jake?_ David remembered the new kid from his crew. Why the hell would he be here? A nagging feeling crept into the back of his mind about the day Hardy died. He forced himself to ignore the banging on the door and concentrate on his scattered memories. Jake had been in the tunnel that day. He'd offered to go topside and fetch the forgotten datapad containing all his calculations. Had David taken Jake up on his offer, he'd had been at the tunnel face when it collapsed. He froze.

When someone began hacking into the door lock, David knew he had to find an alternate exit. There was just one, a window that overlooked the alleyway below. Tucking the pistol into the back of his jeans, David tried to jerk the window open. He'd never tried before and the runners were thoroughly jammed up. With a grunt of effort, he finally managed to open a gap that may have been able to fit his hefty frame. However when he began climbing out he was nerve-rackingly reminded of the fact that pre-fabs were designed to be stacked. Although his was only the third in the stack, the ground still seemed a hell of a long way away. He practically thrust his body out of the narrow gap, cursing when the carelessly wedged pistol was driven out of the back of his jeans and sent crashing to the ground below. David was anxiously clinging by his hands when the door opened and he saw Jake stride into the room. The eager-faced young kid was gone, replaced by a killer in dark leather. His own pistol was already raised. It was the shots aimed at his head which drove David to let go. He let out a sharp cry as he fell - abruptly cut off when he slammed into a pile of rubbish and had the wind driven from his lungs. He was still picking himself out of the slimy morass when he heard more than one pair of boots thudding on the makeshift staircase on the other side of the stack.

_Shit, how many guys did they send?_ David rolled to his feet, wondering how the hell someone like him warranted more than one hitman. He'd already been only moments from opening his door and inviting Jake to shoot him. A hasty search for the fallen pistol turned up nothing other than rotting refuse. Empty handed, David urged his heavy frame into something resembling a sprint. A chill wind whipped through his light t-shirt as he ran, although he was thankful at least that he was still wearing his boots. As to a plan, he had nothing other than a vague desire to keep living – even then he wasn't sure why he bothered.

As he navigated his way blindly through the twists and turns of what could only be referred to as a slum, David wondered how long it would take the Alliance patrols to notice the disturbance. He did briefly consider seeking them out, until he wondered whether that would be tantamount to signing his own death warrant. As his lungs began to burn, concern for his own safety was banished behind the thought that he had left the tattered picture of his family propped up against his bedside lamp. Having lost the gun, he had nothing other than the scant clothes on his back and a sorely depleted credit chit in his back pocket.

David tried to cloak himself in darkness, but his clumsy movements were enough to draw the attention of even the worst assassin. He could sense his pursuers closing in on him, but he had no idea exactly where they were. Somewhere in the vicinity a short, sharp scream rent the air. It was followed only moments later by the muffled sounds of footsteps, then another cry and a sickening thud that David speculated might have been the sound of a body hitting the ground from height. His thoughts were interrupted as something whizzed past his ear and pinged off metal. Someone was shooting at him. When he cast a terrified glance over his shoulder, he saw at least three figures in pursuit.

He rounded yet another corner, having long since lost all track of where he was running in the unfamiliar neighbourhood. His heart sank when he found himself confronted by three sheer walls, all of which were too high to climb. _Turn around Dave_, he urged himself. _You're not going to let these bastards shoot you in the back_. Although he still heard the footsteps, they were punctuated by several urgent exclamations in voices that sounded as terrified as he felt. A blue light suddenly lit the alleyway, illuminating everything for several seconds before it slammed into one of his pursuers. David watched, transfixed, as the figure was thrown savagely against a nearby wall. The impact brought with it a jarring crack and whoever it was did not move once they hit the ground.

Everything that followed happened within the space of less than a minute. As David tucked himself into as small a target as possible in one corner, he watched and listened to the violent struggle. For a split second he would see a pale human face, eyes wide with terror before they were either picked up and thrown or silenced by more intimate means. There was one shadow moving amongst them that he could not make out. At times it appeared to be lit with the unmistakable aura of biotic energy but the hood the figure wore swallowed all light. David eventually recognised the slender figure of Jake - more calculating than the rest, he advanced on David even as his companions died around him. At the moment that David saw the muzzle flash in front of him, the shadowed figure slammed into the young man. There was no struggle, just a sharp crack as his head was twisted savagely to one side. His limp body dropped to the ground like an empty sack.

With his legs trembling violently beneath him, David forced himself to stand up. Although this individual had killed the men pursuing him, whoever it was could very well simply be tidying up loose ends. There was very little light in the alleyway, he could see nothing other than a lithe figure clad in a hooded cloak. The cowl was pulled down low and David thought there was also a mask covering the face.

"David Codrington?"

The voice was like steel-edged velvet. Unmistakably feminine, the sound startled him speechless.

"Are you David Codrington?" She repeated, advancing several more steps.

"Y-yeah…I am," he croaked. Without warning, she lifted her arm and levelled a wicked looking pistol in his direction. David thrust both his hands into the air. He was too terrified to meet his fate with more dignity. "W-who are-"

"You made the claim that Commander Shepard is still alive," she interrupted harshly. "Why?"

David frowned in confusion. "I saw her…spoke to her…before the Alliance took her away."

"Do you have any proof?" she demanded. "Speak! Or you will end up like the others."

He shook his head hopelessly. There was no proof other than a memory and a plethora of nightmares. "She said something…a name!" he blurted out desperately. "It sounded like Li…Liara something. I think it sounded alien…Tee Sonny." David's brow furrows deepened as he struggled to remember the exact sounds that Shepard had whispered. "Liara…T'Soni," he finished hopefully.

Several seconds passed during which David saw a noticeable shift in her posture. He thought that perhaps she seemed less threatening as she straightened her body out of her fighting stance. Finally, she slowly lowered the weapon. Although he was no longer facing down the barrel of a pistol, David could not bring himself to relax, especially not when she stepped forward into the weak light. Her entire body was shrouded from head to toe in black combat leathers. Whoever she was, she was suitably terrifying.

"You believe me?" David asked in disbelief. The first threads of hope started to appear. He felt brave enough to risk lowering his hands. "Why?"

Her response was to holster her pistol. With a fluid movement, one hand reached to peel back her cowl while the other removed the mask from her face. David's jaw dropped when he saw her head crests, pale blue skin and facial markings. _Asari!_ For all her breath-taking beauty, her cold blue gaze felt like it was stripping him bare.

"Because I am Liara T'Soni."


	11. A Naked Frailty

**Chapter Eleven **  
**A Naked Frailty**

**Location Unknown**

_"Shepard!"_

At first there was nothing other than unrestrained panic. She struggled against any number of unseen forces that pushed and pulled at her body as though it was a sack of meat. When she struggled for breath, it felt as though her lungs were already full to bursting point. They burned as though on fire but still the air would not come. Something rose up out of the darkness and slammed into her head – subduing her almost instantly. Despite the intense pain that radiated across her skull, she drifted in a vague sort of peace as she accepted the situation.

Everything was undoubtedly all fucked up.

Survival, even if she could bring herself to care about living, was probably unlikely. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she knew that she was supposed to have a stupid mantra for such situations.

_The Commander's Mantra. _Well that much was already wrong. She was a Commander of nothing, not even her own life. There was no ship, no crew, not even a damn uniform.

_Just breathe._ Even that was easier said than done. _I can't fucking breathe!_

_Maintain control_. Control of what? As she let her body go completely limp, it was dragged along in a relentless current. She'd already fought and raged to no avail, what good would it do to prolong her suffering? She closed her eyes. There was nothing to see in the darkness anyway.

_"By the Goddess, Evan, please get up!"_

Her eyes suddenly snapped open. Pain and awareness came flooding back. Was there someone with her? Someone was undoubtedly trying to talk to her. Her eyes searched uselessly in the darkness. There was no one with her – just the unrelenting cold and inky blackness waiting to swallow her whole.

_"We need to move!"_

Shepard didn't know which way was up, but she thought about shaking her head – even if she didn't actually do it in reality. _"I can't, you need to go without-"_ This was undoubtedly where it would finally end. Here. Alone. In the dark.

_"Like hell I will! You are not doing this to me. Not when I need you so desperately. Now on your feet soldier or by the Goddess I will kick the fucking crap out of you!"_

It sounded as though someone had some serious anger issues. A part of her tried to comply, but her feet were merely some appendage below her, or were they above her? She absently thrashed them about for a few moments but succeeded only in striking her shin against the same unyielding surface that had collided with her head. It hurt like hell, but as long as there was pain it meant that she was still alive. Finally she managed to discern which way was up. When she kicked out again, the invisible forces had weakened and she was able to make some progress upward. Her lungs felt as though they were on fire when she finally burst through the surface in a spluttering, thrashing fit of movement. The darkness was still there, but she could finally gasp in snatches of glorious air amidst the copious amounts of water going in the opposite direction.

Eventually Shepard felt something undeniably solid beneath her feet – or at least she hoped it was solid. Using her fingernails like claws, she dragged herself forward, up and out of the desperate clutches of the water. Not caring where she was exactly, she continued only until the entirety of her sodden form was out of the water. Then she gratefully collapsed onto her back and lay sucking in grateful gasps of air. Every breath burned her lungs, but it was still sweet.

Shepard was dimly aware of pain arcing across different parts of her body, or possible all of it, but nothing was more pressing than the need to breathe and orientate herself. Even as the breaths came more easily, the darkness retreated only enough for her to see her pale hand when she waved it in front of her face. When she rolled her head to one side, an eerie light danced on top of the water in an attempt to entice her back into the icy depths. She ignored it by closing her eyes.

Time passed but she could not bring herself to make a movement other than to tuck her body into a tight ball in an effort to find warmth. Shepard knew that they would be following her – Dr Naomi Stone in particular. The blonde's smiling face cut across the images flashing behind her eyes, accompanied by Heller's impassioned plea not to trust her. While Shepard had never trusted the woman completely, she had allowed herself to be drawn into the promise of hope she offered. That had turned out to be a lie. Exactly why she had made those promises, Shepard had no idea.

Despite the cold clawing at what remained of her sanity, Shepard was convinced that Stone had not lied as to who she was. While her memory of the night was dimmed by the passage of time, she had definitely met the woman in a Citadel nightclub. She remembered their heated exchange in a dark corner, or at least the frightening hunger she had felt whilst devouring the blonde. It played out like so many other encounters throughout her life. However none of those one night stands had re-emerged with a burning desire to hold her captive, torture her and ultimately end her life. Shepard had to wonder if at some stage she had hurt Naomi. Other than the vague feeling that she had actually been only moments away from having sex whilst still in the middle of the club, there was nothing.

The more she searched her memories for the full story, the deeper the images retreated. Eventually she was left with only a dull haze of pain as that night became clouded by images of all the nights before and after. Shepard gave up altogether and instead tried to drag her body up into a sit. Nothing would cooperate properly. All her limbs were numbed by cold save for her artificial hand – that felt as though it was burning. When Shepard pressed the fingertips to her clammy cheek, they almost seared the skin.

She managed an awkward, slithering crawl over the slimy rocks beneath her, already cracked fingertips dragging against the hard surface. Although she was exhausted, Shepard did not stop moving until she felt an almost dry surface beneath her. While her sodden clothing created a damp pool around her, she nevertheless collapsed, breathing heavily from the simple exertion.

While sleep tugged at the edges of her already fragile consciousness, Shepard fought to remain awake. With the natural fingers of her right hand she probed experimentally at the head wound she'd sustained while underwater. Although it was tender to the touch, she could not feel that it was bleeding profusely. The gunshot wound to her shoulder was another matter altogether. She had sincere intentions of trying to bind it with a length from her t-shirt, but the desire to slip into unconsciousness was proving too strong.

"You need to stay awake, Evan."

Shepard knew she was delirious when she heard Liara's voice as clearly as though the asari was with her in the dank cave. She knew and she didn't care. For a few blissful moments it felt as though Liara was there and that was all the mattered.

"T'tired," she muttered, knowing full well she was talking to herself. Her eyelids slowly drooped.

"You have always been stubborn. Why do you choose now to start simply accepting things as they are?" Liara demanded. "Open your eyes."

"Bossy bitch," Shepard wheezed through lips that would barely move.

"Open your eyes!"

A split second after she felt the tangible warmth of Liara's breath flow over the skin of her face, Shepard forced her eyes open. Her heart almost stopped when she came face to face with the asari. Liara was leaning over her, propped up with a hand on either side of her body.

Shepard's head lolled from side to side in the negative. "You're not here," she whispered. It was made even harder to accept by the fact that Liara was wearing the old science uniform she had worn during her days on the _Normandy_ SR-1…and she was completely dry.

"Does it matter?" Liara asked softly. She lifted a hand as if to touch Shepard's cheek, but cruelly left it hovering just out of reach. "As long as you don't give up and let yourself die down here."

"I might," Shepard replied abruptly. "Gotta run out of lives sooner or later."

Her hand flailed upwards, reaching for Liara. Her lover gracefully moved backwards to crouch on her haunches, avoiding her touch by scant inches. Angry at being denied, Shepard dragged her own body upwards. Her movements were much less graceful and accompanied by a choice flurry of expletives.

"Fuck!" she hissed as she propped herself up against the sheer rock face at her back. "You're pissing me off, T'Soni."

"Good," Liara said in a terse voice. "Get angry. It will help you stay alive."

Shepard snorted. "You don't need to lecture me about being angry, Li. I've been fucking angry since I woke up. Heller, Stone, the whole damn Alliance…Hannah fucking Shepard." _Not Mum…never again. She lost the right to that title the day she threw her lot in with the Alliance_. "Now I'm sitting in a goddamn cave talking to myself…probably surrounded by soldiers with guns and itchy trigger fingers. Not to mention a psychopathic bitch with a hard on for me."

Although Shepard tried to keep her gaze focused on the image of her lover whenever she stared directed at the spot where Liara sat, she found only darkness. Instead Liara's form remained elusive, hovering just at the edge of her vision. As she sat, still breathing heavily, she absently patted at the pockets of her coat. She already knew she'd lost both her pistol and the omni-tool that Heller had provided for her. There was something bulky nestled inside one pocket but her numb fingers wouldn't work on the zip.

"Be careful with Dr Stone, Evan," Liara cautioned her. "You undoubtedly have history. I would not write it off as insignificant."

A chill ran down Shepard's spine as she gave up trying to make her right hand work and used the left instead. She could feel the zip beneath her fingertips, but it felt wrong. "Yes we do have history. I fucked her…or at least I think I did." The zip worked easily and Shepard sighed as she remembered the individual she had been before she met Liara. "But I was lost back then. It meant nothing to me…maybe she expected more?" She eventually withdrew a small package from the pocket. Although she could make out little in the darkness, the red cross on the front was distinctive enough. Shepard laughed.

"I fail to see what is funny about your situation." Liara was not as amused.

"Lighten up, baby." A dangerously giddy feeling overtook her body. When she rummaged into other pockets she came up with another pack containing a small survival kit with ration bars, a survival blanket and several glo-sticks. "We are definitely naming our first-born Bryan," she announced determinedly as she cracked one of the small sticks.

When the fluorescent orange glo created a small halo of light around her body, it was enough to make some of her weariness retreat along with the darkness. The worry that the light might be spotted by her pursuers nagged at the back of her mind, but it was barely bright enough to extend as far as the water.

"We most certainly are not," the asari fired back immediately. "I am not naming my daughter _Bryan T'Soni_!"

Shepard chuckled as she drew the medigel out of the kit. "Get angry, baby. It's so bloody amusing it might help me stay alive." She thought she saw Liara's beautiful features twist into a scowl out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulder wound protested violently when she started stripping off her coat, to the point where she had to stifle a whimper. Shepard drew in a deep breath. "And I have a feeling that patching this up is going to hurt like hell."

* * *

**Unmarked Transport Vessel, Mid-Flight**

Despite the hunger gnawing at his stomach, David could not bring himself to pick up the sandwich that lay on the seat beside him. Instead he remained staring out of the transport's tiny window. He could see absolutely nothing other than a deep night that seemed to claw at the sides of their vehicle. His new companions had left him alone for the better part of an hour. Liara T'Soni had murmured something about him needing sleep, but even the thought of closing his eyes was too difficult to contemplate. It was thoroughly ridiculous, but he was certain that he would wake up to discover that everything that had happened to him over the past few hours had been some sort of dream. Instead he would find that he was actually dead or in some Alliance detention facility being tortured simply for being in the wrong place.

David barely remembered any specific details of recent events other than an all-encompassing blur. The sheer terror of his desperate flight from his apartment had been replaced by a dull panic that clung to every thought and action. He'd blindly followed the asari, not caring whether she was leading him to safety, but because there was nothing else he could do. Less than twenty minutes after she'd saved his life, David had found himself bundled aboard a non-descript transport bound for the other side of the Atlantic. He had vague memories of being introduced to another human, but he could not remember the man's name. The only image that stood out starkly in his mind was the terrible visage of Liara T'Soni. Her cold blue eyes continued to strip him bare, even as he sat by himself in one of the transport's small cabins. Who she was exactly or why her name had been the only words to leave Shepard's lips had yet to be explained.

When the door on the cabin slid open, David's frayed nerves led to his entire body jerking instinctively with fright. He made no attempt to look nonchalant or even composed as he looked toward the door. Liara's companion delivered what was no doubt supposed to be a reassuring smile, but David remained unconvinced as he sat up a little straighter in his seat.

He cast his gaze toward David's untouched sandwich and shook his head. "You sure you don't want that?" he asked in an accent that David guessed was Antipodean. "Can't go wrong with cold lamb and homemade mint sauce."

Before David even managed to shake his head, the slender stranger moved to claim it. He wasted no time in peeling off the wrapper and rescuing one half. When he bit into the bread and began to chew, a smile of pleasure crossed his face. "Bread's a bit stale but it's still damn good," he announced between mouthfuls. He held up the other half. "You sure?"

"Go on then, mate," David replied, more to shut the guy up than out of any actual desire to eat the bloody sandwich. However when he automatically took a bite, his mouth salivated around the simple taste. He was famished and it was undeniably good.

The two men sat in companionable silence for several minutes as they polished off both the first sandwich and a second, slightly squashed one that was produced from a coat pocket. David had dozens of questions he wanted to ask, but foremost on his mind was the mysterious asari who had saved his life.

He studied the older man sitting on the seat opposite. While he appeared to be a good two decades older than David himself, he moved with the calculated precision of a trained soldier. There was absolutely no doubt in David's mind that he could close the gap between the two of them and kill or incapacitate him in a matter of seconds. Yet despite this, he seemed positively harmless when compared to Liara T'Soni.

"Thanks," David finally found his voice. "Um, Li...Miss T'Soni-" _Miss T'Soni? Was that even how asari referred to themselves? _Having had never spoken to one before today, David had absolutely no idea. All he knew was that it felt wrong to refer to such an individual as simply _Liara_. "-told me your name but..." His voice trailed off as he again struggled with the reality of everything that had happened to him in such a short space of time.

"Take it easy," he replied in a surprisingly compassionate voice. "It's not every day that you find out that the people that you rely on to protect you are trying to kill you. Name's Mack – it's actually Pericles Macklin, but you'll find yourself walking if you try to use it."

David shook his head. "It honestly didn't cross my mind."

Mack grinned. "And I wouldn't go calling her _Miss_ T'Soni if I were you. It's Dr T'Soni-"

_Dr T'Soni?_ David thought, raising his eyebrows in surprise_. Doctor of what? Kicking people's arses? _

"-or just Liara," finished Mack. He recognised the expression on the other man's face and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. She can be kind of intimidating. You should be thankful you just had a gun pointed in your direction; the first time we met she tried to strangle me. If I only ever give you one piece of advice, it would be 'don't piss off Liara T'Soni.' Turns out that's exactly what the Alliance did when they kept Shepard from the world...and her."

"How did she know?" David asked. "The story, it didn't run on any of the news outlets."

"Let's just say that Liara and Commander Shepard share a bond. Once she knew that Shepard was alive, she didn't stop until she uncovered the information she was looking for. Specifically your story – buried by the Alliance," Mack explained. "Relentless doesn't even begin to describe her approach."

"Terrifying." David offered a description of his own.

Mack shrugged. "She's just a kid who would do anything for the person she loves."

David was in the midst of a realisation when the cabin door opened and the subject of their conversation stood just beyond the threshold. While Mack grinned, he found himself shrinking back into the seat a little further. Despite Mack's attempt to make her seem less harsh, he was uneasy at the thought of sharing a confined space with her.

"How far out are we?" Mack asked as he rose to his feet and stretched his lanky limbs.

"About an hour," Liara replied. She sounded tired. "Can I trouble you to check on our gear? I would appreciate some time alone with Mr Codrington."

"Yeah, no worries, kid," Mack nodded. As he moved by her he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Go easy on the guy will ya? He's under the impression that you're some sort of she-demon who still might be thinking about killing him."

"Mack," Liara growled low in her throat while her companion chuckled at his own joke.

In most other circumstances, David would have appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. As it was, Mack only succeeded in making his heart race a little faster. He discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs as Liara took Mack's seat opposite him. Mack closed the door behind him and David was left alone in the cabin with the asari. As she folded herself down into a graceful sit, David found it difficult to look directly at her. When she did not begin speaking straight away, he risked a quick glance. She had taken up his distraction of gazing out of the window. Feeling slightly bolder, David did not look away. It took him only a matter of moments to realise that he no longer felt the same fear he had earlier in her presence. If anything, he felt an intense sympathy for her. Gone was the awesome warrior he'd encountered in the alley. Instead, with her shoulders sagging and dark circles beneath her eyes, she looked exhausted and impossibly young.

"_She's just a kid who would do anything for the person she loves."_ Mack's words repeated in his head and he remembered the quiet desperation in Shepard's voice when she whispered Liara's name to him. Both his fists clenched as an outlet for the sudden anger that surged through his body – anger directed at the organisation that had tried to kill him, and had kept Shepard from those who loved her.

"What can I do for you, Dr T'Soni?" When David found his voice, he spoke emphatically. He realised that he would do anything for her.

Liara finally met his gaze. When she recognised the sincerity there, she shifted forward slightly with an almost hopeful expression in her eyes. "Mr Codrington-"

"David. You saved my life, please call me David."

She nodded. "David. I believe that I would not be wrong in saying that you have had little experience with asari?" He very readily nodded in agreement. "What I am about to ask you may make very little sense, it may seem strange, but I assure you that I would not be asking this of you unless it were very important." A small sigh escaped her lips as she paused before clarifying. "Important to me...I need to look into your memories, to see what you claim you saw when you found her. I understand if you want to refuse, I will not compel-"

"Yes," David interrupted without waiting for a further explanation. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"Asari use a technique called a meld," she explained gently. "Often other species misinterpret its use as purely sexual, but I assure you in this instance I am only seeking to share thoughts. I must warn you though, it can be...intrusive. I want you to show me your memories of finding Shepard, nothing more."

Although he was still sweating profusely, David held out his palms to indicate that he was ready. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing," Liara said in a quiet, gentle voice.

She closed her own eyes and he wondered if he should follow suit. Only moments later, she opened them again. He could not stifle the gasp that emerged when the sapphire blue he had expected was swallowed by polished obsidian so black that it felt as though it was swallowing his own gaze. A surprised cry died on his lips when the cabin around him disappeared and was replaced by the damp familiarity of a tunnel similar to the one he'd been standing in on the day his life had been turned upside down. However as soon as David looked up and saw the barrier hanging in front of him, he knew it was the same one.

_The smell of damp earth met her nostrils. Although the sides of the tunnel were pressing in from almost every direction, it was a comforting, familiar environment. The only element that was out of place was the spherical anomaly blocking the tunnel's path. When she turned, Liara found that a part of the machinery behind her had been seared clean off where it had come into contact with the barrier. Her heart was thudding in her chest when she turned back to face the blue light. _

_"Christ! Don't touch it!" She knew the man's name was Hardy. _

_"Didn't cross my mind." The words from her lips were not her own, they were David's. Her own thoughts were nowhere near as calm and collected. "Hardy, start telling the guys to clear the hell out of here…it looks like some sort of weapon-"_

_Her command was abruptly cut short when the barrier hanging in front of her died. When the limp body tumbled out, Liara gasped inwardly. Unlike David, she needed no time to identify the woman she scooped into her arms. _

_"Fuck," David whispered. "What the fuck is this?"_

_Liara could feel the fear and confusion that had radiated throughout David's body as he held Shepard in his arms. Her own reaction was far different – born of an intimate familiarity with the woman and almost everything about her. As she hungrily tried to absorb as many details as she could, she realised that the body she was holding was markedly different from the one she remembered. As David reached as to brush a length of dark hair away from Shepard's eyes, Liara was struck by the immediate realisation that her scars were gone. She sobbed within her mind as she studied her lover's ashen face and body, almost completely devoid of colour. Shepard's body had wasted to that of a gaunt skeleton. Liara remembered that her left hand and forearm had been seared clean off in the push for the Crucible, but when she looked she found an unnaturally pale growth that had formed in the shape of her missing limb. When she touched it, she found it to be icy cold. _

_"Bloody 'ell, Dave, the lass is starkers." Liara had forgotten that someone else was in the tunnel with David._

_"I think the real question is what the hell is she doing in my tunnel?" David's voice replied. _

_Liara was screaming at them to cover Shepard's body with something, anything. Even though she was clearly breathing, her lover was ice cold – as though dead. Hardy hunkered down beside David and he reached for the dogtags that had inexplicably remained intact around her neck. The asari already knew what Hardy would find when he scratched the grime from the metal. _

_"Jesus H. Christ! It's Commander bleedin' Shepard."_

_Although the revelation meant nothing to her, Liara sobbed inwardly when Hardy said her name. She knew that she could do nothing to change David's memories, but she willed him to draw Shepard hard against his chest, to hold her exactly as she wished to in that moment. _

_"Christ!" Hardy was still talking. "She's supposed to be dead ain't she, Dave? Never saw it meself, but they say the Crucible went up like the flamin' Fifth of November."_

_It did__, Liara thought. __I was watching it. There should have been no way that anyone could have survived such a blast. And yet..._

_"Obviously not," David had replied. When Shepard's eyelids fluttered open, Liara found herself gazing into the familiar pale blue depths. The recognition that she craved was nowhere to be found. Of course it would not be there. Shepard was staring up at a stranger. "Commander? Commander Shepard?"_

_When Shepard's lips started to jerk up and down as she tried to speak, Liara gasped when a thin whisper emerged. David lowered his ear closer to her mouth in an effort to hear what she was saying in a desperate voice. "Li…ara…T-T'Soni. Li-"_

_I am here, Evan. Goddess! I am here. _

_Shepard did not response to Liara's unspoken words, instead her eyes suddenly rolled back into her head as her body started to spasm uncontrollably. A series of awful gasping sounds escaped her mouth as she apparently struggled to draw a breath._

_"Shit! What the 'ell do we do?" Hardy was panicking. _

_"Remain where you are, Mr Hardy." A stranger was suddenly present. Liara knew that David recognised him, but she also shared his surprise at the sudden intrusion. "This is Captain Prowse of the four-oh-second, I've got a situation at my coordinates. Send immediate back-up and medical evac…and I mean fucking immediate!"_

_When David gave up his hold on Shepard, Liara fought against the path of the memory as it played out. With the weight of Shepard's body gone from her arms she felt bereft. A surge of hate grew in the pit of her stomach as David stared at the Alliance officer who had so efficiently usurped control over the scene. _

_"And, Dave? It would be in your best interests not to breathe a world of this to anyone. That applies to you and your pal there."_

_"But it's Shepard," David had pointed out in disbelief. "People will want to know!"_

_"Not a goddamn word, or you'll wish you had been Reaper fodder."_

_No! Liara protested as David had calmly acquiesced and started moving away from Shepard's still thrashing body. She knew that the civilian was scared, but she desperately wanted to return to her lover's side, especially as her skin took on a bluish hue and she continued to struggle just to draw a breath. The woman that lay in the mud seemed so far removed from the soldier she knew. Liara had never seen Shepard so helpless and vulnerable. It almost broke her as she felt the memory fleeing from her grasp. _

_"Hold in there, Commander Shepard," David said softly. " Earth isn't done with you yet."_

A gasp escaped David's throat as he suddenly found himself back in the cabin. Liara T'Soni was still seated opposite him, but her breath came in ragged gasps and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her fingernails scratched repeatedly at the fabric of the seat covering.

"Dr T'Soni?" he asked hesitantly.

When she lifted her head he found himself staring into a gaze similar to the one he had encountered in the alley in London. However her obvious distress helped him not to shrink away with fear.

"You left her there!" she accused him in a horrible voice that spoke volumes of her devastation at what she had just witnessed. Her voice trembled as she continued, "You left her alone in that place...with the Alliance! You were all she had...she trusted you and you abandoned her!"

He swallowed quickly, wondering if he should fear for his life. The situation became even more tense when a blue aura started to shimmer around her body. Although it was beautiful, he had witnessed firsthand just how deadly her biotics could be. "Dr T'Soni...Liara, I had no choice. How was I to know what the Alliance intended to do with her? I thought that they would be the best people to help her! You must understand-"

"I do not want to understand!" Liara's voice suddenly rose several octaves as she stood. The corona around her body also increased in intensity. "Those fucking Alliance _bastards!_" she hissed.

When David realised that the anger was not directed at him, he felt his fear dissipate. He also stood, but he did not risk approaching her. "I want to help you. I don't know how, but anything..."

Liara turned to look at him. Although her biotics had diminished slightly, they still danced with a palpable intensity. "I am sorry, David."

He shook his head. "No, I understand. The anger...you need it."

She nodded once in agreement, but gave no other response before she turned and discharged her pent up power against the door. It buckled outwards with a terrible wrenching of metal and slammed against the other side of the corridor beyond. David was left standing in the cabin alone until Mack came running in half a minute later. He looked from the ruined door to David's ashen face.

"I take it you didn't do that," the New Zealander observed, quite calmly.

David let out a long, ragged exhale that was partially relief that he was still in one piece and partially in anticipation of the events to come. "I think the Alliance broke the 'don't piss off Liara T'Soni' rule."

* * *

**Vancouver, Canada**

_Access Denied. _

Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard stared at the blunt response made by her console when she inputted her login details. Although she knew full well that her fingertips had moved in the correct sequence across the haptic interface, she tried a second time.

_Access Denied. _

Without pausing to stare at the screen for a moment longer, Hannah pushed the chair backward. The legs screeched across the floor as she did so, serving as a jarring reminder that her nerves were already in a fragile state. Uncharacteristically, she spent almost a minute pacing the length of the room. Although the complex was brand new and extremely comfortable, her personal space was only a studio apartment. Despite her rank Hannah had insisted that she been assigned quarters far beneath her rank. She needed very little space for herself and, unlike other officers who still had family or the desire to find love, there would never be anyone staying over.

When she eventually did make the decision to act, her movements became all consuming. She drew out her well-worn sea bag and began hastily packing clothes and other necessary articles. This continued at a frenetic pace for several minutes before she abruptly stopped.

Hannah stared down at the bag lying on the foot of her bed. The realisation struck her that, although she could choose to run, it would be little more than a futile gesture. They were already watching her, as they had been since her daughter was uncovered beneath the streets of London. For one of the most closely watched figures within the Alliance, there would be nowhere she could run. With a harsh exhale, Hannah collapsed on the edge of the bed and placed her head in her hands. She'd already either burned or tapped dry her last remaining contacts in planning Heller's suicidal effort to break Evan out of the Alberta complex. Judging from the fact that she had been shut out of her own files, the escape had either been successful or it had gone horribly wrong. No knowing whether her daughter was alive or dead was by far the worst aspect of the whole situation.

_Still, old girl, this was never about your own escape route. She's all that matters_, Hannah thought as she scrubbed at her temples. Although she had thought to extend her sphere of resistance further afield to Shepard's crewmembers, she was being too closely monitored to do anything that would not ruin their careers or endanger their lives. She'd seized the fortuitous opportunity to warn Miranda Lawson, but she suspected that her poorly veiled warning had only angered the headstrong ex-Cerberus Operative.

When the anticipated fist pounded on her door less than five minutes later, Hannah did not react with surprise or fear. Instead she gracefully rose to her feet and crossed the room. When she opened it, she was surprised to find herself staring at only two Alliance personnel – a grizzled Major who looked as though he was nearing retirement and a tall, portly looking marine with an oddly nervous expression.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Hannah suspected that there was little point in trying to plead any sort of ignorance, but she had also been playing this game long enough to know not to give anything away.

"Rear Admiral Shepard, ma'am, we'd appreciate it if you came with us," the Major announced in a firm, no-nonsense tone. As he spoke he rested his hand pointedly on the pistol he wore at his waist. "We have someone who would like a word."

_Kessler no doubt_, Hannah thought. _I'm not sure that being an old friend is going to help in this situation_. "Do I have any choice in the matter?" she asked.

"None whatsoever," he replied, reaching out to grab her elbow in a sudden and firm grip.

Although Hannah was far from the panicking type, she remembered the picture she had left sitting next to her console, the one of John and Evan. When she turned her head, she could see it sitting there. "I just need-"

"There's no time!" he growled in an urgent voice, dragging her out into the corridor.

The unmistakable urgency in his voice struck Hannah as odd. While they would have been told to bring her in without delay, she thought she detected an undercurrent of fear. The marine had not said a word and she noticed a thin sheen of sweat forming beneath his cap. It was not warm in her apartment complex.

"You're not Alliance are you?" she demanded.

He gave her a steady, unreadable expression in response. "I'd shut up and keep walking if I were you, ma'am."

"There are cameras-"

His lip curled upwards into a lopsided grin. "Yes, there are. Whether they actually work is another thing altogether." He propelled her forward with a firm hand in the centre of her back. "No please walk in silence, I'd hate to have to gag that gorgeous mouth of yours, ma'am."

When Hannah cast an indignant glare over her shoulder, the Alliance imposter merely responded with a casual wink. She snorted but complied with his request.

She had next to no memory of the skycar ride – predominantly for the fact that a blindfold had been wrapped securely over her eyes by the apologetic looking marine before she was forced into the back seat. Being treated in such a fashion was a new experience for the Rear Admiral. Although she had vague thoughts that she ought to be putting up more of a fight, she also supposed that wherever they were taking her could not possibly be any worse than Alliance headquarters. Nevertheless, when she was roughly shoved down onto a hard seat, Hannah started to feel a small amount of fear creeping into her thoughts. Her entire body was chilled to the bone as she was wearing just her casual blues with no jacket. An icy breeze was currently wafting around, biting through her thin layers. For some reason she already knew that she would not be allowed to return to her apartment. The fact that she had not had time to retrieve her picture was threatening to stir up more emotion than she had originally thought possible with the mere loss of a mere physical possession.

Almost inaudible footsteps struck the surface in front of her. As they drew close, Hannah listened for some hint of recognition. Whoever approached, they were clearly not wearing heavy soled Alliance issue footwear. They were boots made for stealth, but each footfall was heavy…almost angry. Hannah suddenly caught a brief trace of a vaguely remembered scent and recognition dawned.

"Liara," she whispered.

Only seconds later, the blindfold was yanked away from her eyes. They required little time to adjust to the light as the room was already dim, the far reaches cast in shadow. Hannah's lips parted slightly. Her speculation had been correct. Dr Liara T'Soni stood in front of her, dressed in form fitting black commando leathers. Although the asari's expression was blank, Hannah could almost see the fury radiating from her body.

"Why was the Alliance coming to arrest you?" Liara asked coldly.

Hannah tilted her chin upward in a defiant gesture. She was not some young girl to be cowed by an intimidating display. "How the hell did you know they were coming to arrest me?"

Liara glared in response to her question being met with another question as opposed to an answer. A second figure stepped into Hannah's view. She immediately recognised the Alliance 'Major.' He'd already rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned his shirt in a manner that was not the regulation-approved way to wear a uniform. When she turned her head further to the right, she also found the second man. He'd removed his cap to reveal a head of thinning red hair. Hannah did not know how she had ever mistaken him for a soldier.

"I wish we could offer an impressive answer, but it might simply be that Dave and I jumped them behind your apartment building. Well, to be fair I did most of the jumping, Dave just stood and gawped," he explained in his oddly charming manner. Ignoring Liara's impatient expression, he stepped forward and hunkered down in front of her. "Ma'am…Hannah, the Alliance will be looking for their personnel and Dr T'Soni is operating on a very short fuse, we _are_ running out of time…and you know that as well as I."

"Evangeline is alive," Hannah offered quietly. When none of the expected surprise became evident in their faces, she realised that they already knew. "The Alliance found her six months ago-"

"No they didn't," the fake marine finally spoke up. "I bloody well found her. It was the Alliance who decided to keep her hidden. Can you tell me why the hell they would do that?"

Hannah felt all three pairs of eyes boring into her. She eventually had to lower her gaze, especially after she caught the blatant accusation evident in Liara's cold stare. "Before Evan was found, the Alliance was already well underway with their policy changes to implement a new kind of order, a new response to the Galaxy as a whole. With humanity faring better than the other races, there are those who believed it was our destiny to seize the opportunity to become not just a major player, but the dominant one. Unfortunately for humanity as a whole, that was the vocal opinion. Those who did not share it were removed or forced to adapt. I myself chose the latter course out of nothing more than cowardice." She hung her head in shame.

"Hackett? Anderson?" Liara demanded.

"David Anderson was invalided out of the SA only a few months after the end of the war. He went to ground and I've heard very little from him," Hannah explained in a voice heavy with regret. "Steven was…not as fortunate. He did not fit within their new world order…and neither did Evan."

"But she's Commander Shepard!" the red-haired man protested in disbelief.

"She's right," Liara added. "Evan would never have gone along with such a regime. She would have fought to the bitter end to ensure that people like that did not get so much as a whiff of power. Next to taking on the Reapers, bringing down the Alliance would have been a holiday. At one stage I would not have thought humans capable of such global idiocy."

"Clearly you held us in too high a regard," Hannah replied softly.

"You know where they are holding her, Hannah," Liara continued in a business-like manner.

The Rear Admiral debated whether to nod or shake her head in response. "I _knew_ where they held her. An underground Alliance facility in Alberta."

Liara's eyes narrowed. "_Held_?"

"There was an escape attempt, I had high-level input, but it was orchestrated on the base level by one of Evan's doctors who was sympathetic – Bryan Heller. I expected to be arrested regardless of its outcome due to the simple fact of my relationship with her. I am dreadfully sorry, Liara. I have no concrete information to offer as to the success or failure of Heller's plan. I can only speculate that something went wrong."

"You're going to take us there," Liara informed Hannah in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hannah stared at her in disbelief. "It's a heavily guarded Alliance facility. I do not know the extent of your own abilities, Dr T'Soni, but with all due respect you have two men – one only marginally more useful than the other - and an old woman at your disposal. What do you think you're going to be able to achieve?"

"Saving the life of the woman I love," Liara replied tersely.

Hannah studied the asari's face and suddenly realised that she was only seconds away from breaking down. With an almost imperceptible sniff, she turned and walked out of the room. She was left alone with Liara's two companions, both of whom were looking slightly nervous at the prospect of taking on the Alliance.

"I resent being called only marginally more useful than Dave," the older gentleman spoke up as he extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Name's Mack by the way. It's a true pleasure to meet you, Mrs Shepard."

Hannah found herself suddenly tongue-tied. She awkwardly shook her head. "Please, I haven't been Mrs Shepard in a long time. And since I don't think I'm going to be a Rear-Admiral in the Alliance Navy for much longer, it's just Hannah."

"Um…and I'm David," the second man added nervously. "David Codrington. I was the engineer who found your daughter beneath the ruins of the Crucible. Dr T'Soni saved my life when the Alliance decided that I could no longer be trusted to keep a secret...and here I am."

"Some army, huh?" Mack observed. "Do you think we could call on some of Shepard's former buddies to help us out?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'd already considered that. Those that are in the Alliance would stir up too much suspicion. Shepard has entire armies who would gladly help her off-world, but I fear that we neither have that much time on our hands nor will they be able to get past the security net to even set foot on Earth…" Her voice trailed off and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "There is one we might be able to ask. Although I'm not exactly her favourite person at the moment. If you can stop her from trussing me up in a biotic field, I think she'd be both willing and able to help us without arousing undue suspicion."

Mack shrugged nonchalantly. "Five is one better than four."

David was less than convinced. "Just tell me that she's some sort of superwoman?"

While Mack was reassuring David that he knew at least half a dozen ways to kill a man with his little finger, Hannah quietly slipped out through the same door Liara had used a few minutes earlier. The room beyond was almost completely in darkness but she saw enough to see a sudden movement, accompanied by the sharp sound of someone desperately trying to curtail tears.

"Dr T'Soni? Liara?" Hannah felt suddenly conspicuous and out of her depth. She wasn't the sort of person that individuals usually cried around – unless she had made them cry in the first place. "I am sorry to intrude."

"Then why did you?" Liara's voice was thick with emotion.

Hannah found her own tongue stuck in her throat when she went to reply. "I...I was worried."

Liara suddenly stepped forward into the light. Although she had made some attempt to scrub her cheeks dry, they were still tear stained. "You were worried about me, Rear Admiral Shepard? If you had my best interests at heart then you would have found some way to tell me that Evan was alive." Her voice was tinged with anger and regret as she continued to move forward. "You knew!"

She stubbornly shook her head in response. "It is easy enough to judge when you know little of the circumstances," Hannah tried to explain. She was running a trembling hand through her cheek length hair when she came to a belated realisation. Her hair was the same length that Evan's had been throughout most of her life. "They would have killed her, Liara! On the slightest whim. I did what I could to help her while ensuring that she remained alive." She lowered her head. "And because of it...she'll never forgive me."

Even as she spoke, she saw Liara's anger dissipate to the point where the tears threatened to fall again. Without dwelling further on what she was about to do, Hannah suddenly closed the gap between the two of them and awkwardly folded the trembling asari into her arms. Little time elapsed between Liara trying to resist and collapsing against the human woman. While it was almost impossible for her to fully commit to the gesture, she nevertheless found her own emotions responding in a similar vein. All that time spent standing on the other side of the glass watching her daughter in captivity were brought into a stark, unflatteringly light. Although she would not let herself succumb to tears, Hannah could share in Liara's pain. For a few moments, she was able to close her eyes and imagine that she was holding Evan again.

When Liara finally drew back, she gave Hannah a look that was both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. "I promise you, I'm going to do everything in my power to find Evan."

"I have absolutely no doubt that you will, my girl-" Hannah cut herself off when she realised her instinctive mistake. She squared her shoulders and held Liara at arm's length. "More than anyone else in this poxy Galaxy, the two of you deserve a future."

* * *

A/N: I received several superb guest reviews for the last chapter which I think possibly might have had something to do with the technical stuff the folks at FF have been doing and people didn't realise that they weren't logged in. If one of these was yours, can you let me know so I can offer you a proper reply?


	12. A Question of a Personal Nature

**Chapter Twelve**  
**A Question of a Personal Nature**

**SSV _Normandy _SR-2**

Sam Traynor's abdominal muscles had not ached so painfully since basic. Not since those early morning PT sessions where a loud-mouthed Gunny stood blowing chunks of spittle in her face as she struggled to pull herself up through each lousy sit-up. The humiliation of being called a disgrace to the military profession still rankled, but sit-ups weren't the reason for this particular ache – the simple explanation was copious amounts of good, old-fashioned laughter.

In the seat beside her, Joker pointed enthusiastically toward the screen. "Okay, this is my favourite part…wait for it!"

A reporter wearing a crisp, clean suit was seated opposite a very bored looking Ashley Williams in the Observation Lounge. _{Do you mind if I ask you a question of a more personal nature, Commander Williams?} _

Both Joker and Sam were already chortling at the resulting glower that consumed Ashley's previously expressionless mask. _{My thoughts on the matter haven't stopped you asking any number of inane questions already…so shoot,}_ the marine replied testily. _{I'll decide whether or not I answer it.}_

_{I don't need to tell you that war-related casualties on Earth were catastrophic. Do you feel as though it is the duty of exemplary individuals such as yourself to participate in the re-population of our planet and colonies?}_

"Oh damn, that's priceless," Sam whispered. It was all she could force out through her tears of laughter. She watched as Ashley's mind processed the question and observed the resulting bright flush that spread across each of her cheeks. It was difficult to tell if the response was anger or embarrassment.

"Trust me, that is not even the best part," Joker added.

_{That's a stupid question,}_ Ashley replied bluntly. _{Of course families are important, in whatever form they take-}_

_{You are undoubtedly an outstanding soldier and leader, Commander Williams, but do you feel as though you might best serve humanity by...well, by finding a virile human male and raising a large family?}_ The reporter continued to probe for the answer he wanted without realising how close to the edge he was skirting.

"Oh. My. God. He did not just ask the Commander that," Sam gasped in disbelief.

Joker was desperately attempting to stifle his laughter before he broke a rib. "Oh yes he did!"

_{You need to stop talking,}_ Ashley replied in a tight voice. _{Now.}_

_{So you disagree with me?}_

_{With what? With the fact that I can serve humanity better with my womb than my Black Widow? That the best use of my skills is to find an exemplary male individual and invite him to impregnate me? Are you suggesting your own services, Mr Sarna?}_

_{No one is suggesting that you leave your career, but you might want to give consideration to-}_

With the only warning being a slight twitch beneath her right eye, the on-screen figure of Ashley Williams suddenly launched herself across the table and seized Sarna by the scruff of his suit in order to haul him to his feet. Both Joker and Sam uttered matching exclamations of surprise and delight when she marched him backwards, jarring the camera in the process. The Commander then threw him up against the wall none too gently. The VI camera obediently pivoted and changed angle, zooming in on the two faces – one furious and the other terrified.

_{Listen to me you cock-sucking rat, my womb is none of your fucking business. I'm a marine in the SA Navy, and as such your questions should be addressed to me in that capacity. However after I rip out your tongue I don't think you'll be in much of a position to ask anyone anymore fucking questions. This interview is over.}_

_{Your press office promised me an hour!}_

Sam cocked her head in admiration as she watched the train-wreck of an interview play out in front of her. "You've got to admire his persistence…and his bravery."

_{The Press Office huh? My Council Spectre card trumps your Press Office one, buddy. Now get the fuck out of my quarters.}_

_{You arrogant bitch-}_

His words were cut short all too abruptly when Ashley drew the Carnifex from her holster in one smooth motion. She levelled it directly toward the camera. _{Interview over.}_

The muzzle flashed and a split second later the feed went dead. Sam just stared in disbelief, shaking her head slightly as to whether that had actually really happened or if Joker was making her watch some ridiculous hoax. However the woman on screen had been far too convincing to be anyone other than the real Ashley Williams. "Something tells me the Alliance should have given the Commander some PR training before letting her loose in front of a camera."

"Wait until you see the ANN interview where she threatens to shove her Black Widow up the guy's ass," Joker said. "I think Williams hates reporters even more than Shepard did."

Eyebrows lifted in surprise, Sam turned to regard Joker. "Shepard hated reporters?"

"Did she ever! You didn't hear about the two times she socked that al-Jilani woman – right in the kisser! Pow!" Joker mimed the action. "I wasn't there, but Garrus did a fantastic re-enactment. You know, he's a damn good actor – for a Turian."

Sam laughed, but any potential retelling of Shepard's antics was swiftly curtailed by the alarm on her omni-tool signalling the start of yet another duty shift. She sighed and eased herself out of the co-pilot's chair. Before she left the cockpit, Sam placed a gentle hand on Joker's shoulder. "Thanks for that, Moreau. Yet again I owe you one for cheering me up."

"Thank EDI for tapping into those feeds," Joker replied with a shit-eating grin.

_{I merely did as requested, Jeff,}_ EDI spoke up for herself. _{You assured me that those interviews should be recorded and saved for posterity…and I happened to agree with you. They are a valuable record of life aboard the _Normandy_.} _

"I don't know if our beloved Commander will share the same opinion, but thank you all the same, EDI," Sam added.

"Just make sure you don't mention wombs or virile human males in her presence," was Joker's helpful parting suggestion.

The Specialist found it almost impossible to keep the broad grin from her face as she returned to her station. While she could not imagine a conversation where either of the taboo topics would come up, she nevertheless could not stop thinking about them. She was idly wondering whether it was healthy for a lesbian to spend so much time thinking about virile males when she heard the elevator open behind her. Sam glanced over her shoulder in a casual fashion and almost self-combusted spectacularly when she found herself staring directly into the still stormy face of Ashley Williams. Although the interview had taken place that morning, clearly the passage of time had not dispelled the Commander's anger.

"Are there any messages for me, Specialist?"

"Um, yes ma'am." Sam brought up the incoming messages. "You've received…fifty-seven."

"Can you filter them for me?" Ashley requested. "Any that relate to the supposed destruction of a camera – delete them. Those from Alliance HQ can be filed away and I'll look at them when I'm less likely to respond in a manner that will see me court-martialled."

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Sam asked carefully. _Don't mention wombs or virile human males!_ "Is there anything I can do?"

"Unless you can take my place in one of these damn interviews…" Ashley's voice trailed off as she ran her hand absently over the console in front of her as though checking for dust. With the _Normandy_ still dry-docked, there was very little happening on the CIC. "Just filter the messages, Traynor, that'll be enough."

"Aye-aye, ma'am. I'll fend off those virile males wanting to impregnate you," Sam reassured her Commander in a determined voice. It was only as Ashley's brow furrowed in a deep frown that she realised the exact nature of the words that had escaped her treacherous lips. "C-Commander Williams, I am so-"

"Traynor, if you ever use the word 'virile' in my presence again, I promise that you will spend the rest of your life brushing your teeth manually…and I'm going to be using your fancy-ass toothbrush to polish my boots. Am I understood?"

"Understood, ma'am. Sorry." Sam was relieved beyond belief when her console alerted her to the presence of an urgent message. When she saw who it was from, she risked a slight smile.

"What the hell are you grinning at, Sam?" Ashley demanded, completely forgetting for a few moments that they were both on duty and she was addressing a crewmember, not her friend.

"The message that's just come through, it's from Ms Lawson," Sam offered quietly. "I wouldn't begin to presume anything, but it might…cheer you up?"

Ashley's expression did not waiver, but she responded with a nod. "Thank-you, Specialist. I'll take it in my quarters."

As she turned and retraced her steps back toward the elevator, Ash thought she heard a sigh of relief escape Traynor's lips. She could hardly blame the woman. Ever since starting the Alliance's damn PR campaign she'd become so tightly strung that she felt liable to snap at any moment. As her immediate future was consumed by reporters and their asinine questions, her time with Miranda already felt like a distant memory.

It almost felt as though she was beating a retreat to the Crow's Nest when she ducked gratefully inside. The door closed behind her, going some way toward sealing her off from the rest of the ship. Even though the space represented her position and duties by virtue of its very nature, Ash found comfort in solitude. The Alliance retro-fit team had stripped out the useless fish tank and replaced it with a feature more to her liking – a weapon rack. Her Black Widow was secured alongside her old M-98 and a selection of assault rifles. As she passed, she reached out and trailed her fingers along the length of her sniper in an almost ritualistic gesture. Almost everything else in the Nest remained the same as it had when Shepard occupied the space. Even though she had no patience for scale-modelling herself, Ash had insisted that the team leave the model collection exactly as they were.

Although her shift wasn't officially over for fifteen minutes, she reasoned that she'd pulled enough overtime during the past six months to justify slacking off this once. As she kicked off her boots, Ash transferred the vidcom message to her portable pad. After filling a glass with a finger of scotch from her personal stash, she carried both pad and drink to the bed.

"Alright, M." Ash felt like talking to herself for once as she settled back against the pillows, feeling slightly decadent. "There had better be nakedness."

However when Miranda's face winked into view on the small screen, Ash regretfully saw that she was pretty much decently covered – even though the white vest she wore was devilishly sexy. Although Miranda was still on leave, Ash's first thought was that she looked slightly tired. Her suspicions ran to late night conversations with Lynn. While she was genuinely glad that Miranda was building a relationship with her family, she felt decidedly nervous at the potential secrets her sister could reveal.

Miranda managed a half-decent attempt at a smile as she started her message. Ash's heart skipped several beats in response.

_{Hey you.}_

"Hey yourself," Ash whispered instinctively.

_{The Alliance has definitely put you to work. The girls and I caught the ANN interview last night. You have many talents, but appearing in front of a camera is clearly not one of them,}_ Miranda said, her smile blooming as she spoke.

_Let's just hope you don't see the one I taped this morning_, Ash thought with a wince. She had not bothered to watch the ANN broadcast - although she did wonder whether they had edited out the threat she'd made against the reporter involving the non-regulation use of her Black Widow. Ash had felt a distinct warmth in her chest when Miranda said 'the girls and I.' Her fears that Miranda would hate being left with Abby and Lynn had obviously not eventuated.

_{I did save it to my omni though – for repeat...private viewings. You're undeniably hot when you're angry.}_ Miranda paused for a moment and chewed thoughtfully on her lip as she often did when she was pondering something. The smile faded. _{I've been called up for early deployment as well, I guess the Alliance really don't believe in allowing their personnel to relax. I don't know where I've been assigned, but I thought I should let you know not to expect any contact for several days – at least not until I'm settled in my new post. I'll be thinking of you though, marine. Just promise you'll try and behave yourself around those reporters…for me?} _Miranda cast a glance off to her right. Ash easily recognised a flicker of anxiety pass across her usually poised features. _{I'm sorry for the brevity of this message, babe. I guess I just wanted to say that I love you. Abby and Lynn send their love as well. They're...amazing women, Ash. You should be proud of yourself for you part in raising them. I'll be in touch soon. Take care of yourself and that crew of yours. Love you.}_

With a last, slightly forced smile from Miranda, the image winked out and Ash was left staring at a blank screen. Throughout the message, something about her lover's entire delivery had seemed off. Then there was the use of 'babe.' It had been slipped into the conversation, but she knew full well that Miranda was incapable of using the endearment so casually. She tossed the pad onto the bed and downed the scotch in one gulp.

_What the hell are you playing at, M?_ As she stood, Ash couldn't shake the awful thought that Miranda had lied to her for some reason. However she stubbornly refused to let her mind run away with rampant speculations based on a few weary smiles and one casual 'babe.' _She's tired, that's all_, she reasoned with herself. _Lynn has been keeping her up…and I'm not there to stroke her back while she's trying to get to sleep._ Ash grinned as she set her glass down and began stripping off her uniform. A brief shower would serve to blast away the day's stress.

Several minutes later, clad in just her underwear, she refilled the tumbler with an overly generous measure of scotch and returned to the bed. Her earlier concerns seemed almost outlandish. As she settled back and closed her eyes, she reasoned that it was nice that Miranda could so easily call her 'babe', it would give her more opportunities to call her 'sweetcheeks' in return.

* * *

**Vancouver, Canada**

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Miranda Lawson checked the address displayed on her omni. After reconfirming, she realised that the derelict building she was currently standing in was the right address. However aside from the detritus left by departed squatters, there was no one there to greet her.

She puffed out a frustrated burst of air in an effort to remove a strand of hair that was continuously falling in front of her eyes. The meal that Abby had been preparing when she had left the apartment had smelled delicious, and her concocted excuse about being called into Alliance HQ was half-hearted at best. It was only when she realised that she was feeling resentful at missing out on spending time with the Williams sisters that Miranda accepted just how much she had changed. There had been a time when she would have gladly accepted any excuse to remove herself from a familial situation. Now she honestly missed Abby and Lynn's company. Her only regret was that Ash was not there to share in the frequent moments of hilarity.

Her careful gaze scanned her surrounds but she was already rueing the fact that she had obeyed the mysterious message that claimed to have been sent by Liara T'Soni. Miranda did not make a habit of obeying cryptic messages, but it had been sent via an address she'd only given out to two people – Shepard and Ashley. One was dead and the other she trusted implicitly.

When she caught an unnatural shadow moving out of the corner of her eye, Miranda responded by creating a discreet mass effect field above the fingertips of her right hand. Although she maintained an air of nonchalance about her actions, the fear that she had walked into some sort of trap began to play havoc with her composure. However when she turned and saw a familiar individual step out of the shadows, she extinguished the field in a heartbeat. Despite the lingering sense of unease that hung in the air, she felt a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the welcome sight of Liara T'Soni. While she could not go as far as to call Liara a friend, she was nevertheless Shepard's bondmate. Liara was an integral part of the eccentric _Normandy_ family and, by extension, part of Miranda's family.

"And I thought you'd disappeared into the far reaches of the Galaxy," Miranda observed as she propped a hand on her hip in a casual manner. "Yet all this time, you were hanging out on Earth under the very noses of the Alliance?"

Miranda's smile faltered and soon faded altogether as Liara stepped fully into the light. She tried to keep her lips from parting in shock, but it was difficult when faced with the spectrum of suffering etched clearly on Liara's face. Few people had seen Liara in the wake of Shepard's death over Alchera, but Miranda's first encounter with her had come during that time. If it were possible, Liara now appeared even more haggard. However Miranda's sincere concern was mitigated by the faint air of expectation hovering around the asari. Something was clearly about to happen.

"Not exactly under their noses, but I have been living on Earth," Liara responded with a polite shrug. She studied the dark-haired human woman. While she did not give away a great deal of emotion, her tone was sincere. "It is good to see you, Miranda."

"Likewise," Miranda added with a nod.

"Or should that be Second-Lieutenant Lawson?" Liara asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm definitely here in my capacity as a private citizen, not an Alliance Officer," Miranda added quickly. She was not surprised in the slightest at Liara's extensive knowledge. "As pleasant as it is to see you, I know you didn't invite me here for tea and cake. Whatever you're going to ask of me, I already have the feeling that it's not going to sit well with my superiors." The resulting expression that flickered across Liara's tired features seemed to indicate both agreement and a distinct disquiet. Miranda removed her hand from her hip and straightened. She held her body tense in anticipation. "Why contact me now, Liara?" she asked directly.

Liara opened her mouth to reply, but all that emerged immediately was a ragged exhalation. She eventually had to lower her gaze, unable to meet Miranda's challenging stare during her revelation. "Shepard…is alive."

Miranda's body sagged almost instantly, as though someone had unexpectedly punched her in the gut. _Shepard is alive._ It was the best possible news that she could have received, and yet Liara's words _stung_ painfully. Seven months of mourning had passed - seven months of struggling to accept the fact that a friend she cared for deeply had actually died in the ruins of London. It required a monumental amount of willpower to deny her emotions the release they craved, but Miranda had more practice than most when it came to such denial.

By the time Liara lifted her gaze, she had schooled her face into an expressionless mask. Although no words were exchanged, Miranda very quickly realised that Liara was grateful for her subdued reaction. It was almost ridiculous. Their lives were intimately entwined, but the mere thought of breaking down in each other's company was inconceivable.

"But there are complications?" Miranda asked brusquely. She had already deduced as much from Liara's mannerisms, but the difficulty lay in comprehending how that could even be possible. Surely if Shepard was alive it would be all over the news and she would already be reunited with her bondmate.

"The Alliance was holding Shepard prisoner," Liara replied succinctly. "She escaped."

"Wait." Miranda was still struggling to process the first piece of information. "The Alliance? As in the same human military organisation that Shepard devoted herself to for almost her entire adult life. The same Alliance that just commissioned me as an officer. That Alliance? You'll forgive me if I'm a little sceptical here, Liara, but that claim is-"

"Is it any easier to accept if I corroborate Dr T'Soni's words?"

The additional voice came from the shadows, but Miranda recognised it well enough without having to wait for the newcomer to approach. Her brows had tightened into a scowl before the woman stepped fully into the light.

_Hannah Shepard_. "Not unless I overestimate your intelligence," Miranda retorted bluntly.

The Rear Admiral pursed her lips into a thin smile as Liara allowed her to take over the exposition. "I apologise for my behaviour yesterday, Second-Lieutenant Lawson. I did not expect you to heed advice given to you by someone you do not respect, but a part of me did hope that you were cynical enough to start asking questions of the institution you profess to serve. The Alliance…is not what it once was. Cancerous cells have spread amongst its upper echelons, creating the fear and doubt that has led to the current state of affairs. Perhaps it has not yet filtered down to the lower ranks?"

Miranda clearly remembered the blatant xenophobia of some of her fellow OCS candidates and her short but disturbing interview with Jian and Alves. After years' operating alongside individuals with similar viewpoints during her time with Cerberus, Miranda had not even bothered to consider that there was a deeper significance. "To some extent," Miranda admitted irritably. "But I'm sure you'll fill me in on the rest, and explain what the hell this has to do with Shepard."

She listened with mounting fury as Hannah and Liara laid everything bare – the repugnant fanaticism that had swept swiftly through Alliance High Command in the wake of the Reaper War and what information they did have relating to Shepard's incarceration and escape. It was only when they finished that Miranda realised that she had lost her subconscious control over her biotics. With the fervour of her anger, the tight constraints that usually required no effort to maintain had come unravelled. It was a loss of control that had not happened since she was a child. There was nothing to be done other than to discharge the pent up dark energy against one of the ruined walls. The fields danced and swirled with dangerous potential before fading.

"Okay, she is definitely coming with us!"

This time the voice was unfamiliar. Although neither Liara nor Hannah responded with alarm, Miranda's entire body tensed as they were joined by two human males wearing Alliance uniforms. Neither represented the calibre of squadmate that Miranda would have expected – one was decidedly old and the other taller man bordered on being overweight.

"I'm David," the younger one moved forward with his hand outstretched. "David Codrington. This cantankerous old bastard is Pericles Macklin, but make sure you call him Mack."

"Actually, she can call me whatever she wants," Mack added in an eager voice.

David continued, "With you being able to do that biotic…stuff as well as Dr T'Soni, we might actually stand a chance."

Miranda regarded the proffered hand coolly before turning to Liara. "You must be joking. This is our squad? The galaxy's worst mother, this fatso and a guy who looks old enough to be my father? You and I would stand a better chance operating alone."

David withdrew his hand and turned to his companion with a grimace written plainly on his face. "Bloody hell, she's not very nice is she, Mack?"

"Nope," Mack replied with an appreciative grin. "I like her. Reminds me of my second wife."

Liara ignored them both. "These are the resources we have available. If you would prefer I got in touch with Ashley-"

"No!" Miranda interrupted vehemently. "It's simple enough for me to drop off the radar for a few days, but Ash is on active duty. She gets involved and her career will be over…not to mention her life in danger. I know she'd gladly take that risk, but I'm not willing to let her." Miranda had already realised that Ashley would not share her opinion. However she was willing to incur her lover's wrath in order to keep her at the helm of the _Normandy_. She had the distinct feeling that Ashley needed to stay precisely where she was – in the middle of the viper-ridden pit that was the Alliance. "We'll make do with the personnel we have. However inadequate they are." She briefly glanced back toward the two men. David regarded her warily while Mack winked good-humouredly. "Do we have a plan?"

"We go to Alberta…I find Evan," Liara replied brusquely.

"That's our plan?" Miranda asked in disbelief. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and massaged them intently for several seconds. When she finished, Liara's expression remained unrepentant. "It's not very good," she sighed.

"You try explaining that to _her_," David added with a knowing glance toward Liara.

"Within the broader picture of the Alliance that you and Rear Admiral Shepard have depicted, they will be desperate to recover Shepard," Miranda tried to reason. "The strength of their forces in the area will be considerable. It's another suicide mission."

"I understand your concerns," Liara explained patiently. "But for all their personnel, their firepower, and their hate, we have something the Alliance does not. _Me_. For the past few days I have been able to _feel _Evan. She is still alive. Her fear is my own. I cannot explain it further, but I have every confidence that I will be able to find her before they do. She is my bondmate, Miranda. All I ask is that you place your trust in me…and in her."

"You know I would trust you both with my life," Miranda eventually admitted in a quiet voice. She squared her shoulders. "What the bloody hell are we waiting for then?"

* * *

**Athabasca Facility, Alberta, Canada**

_{Dr Stone, ma'am. We have been unsuccessful in locating any trace of the Subject. Given the condition she was in, it is reasonable to assume that she drowned shortly after entering the river.}_

"Lieutenant...whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is-" Dr Naomi Stone regarded the expectant face of the marine on the screen in front of her with barely concealed disdain. "-I thought I made it clear to you jarheads that I will not consider her dead until you haul her bloated corpse in front of me," she replied in an irritated voice.

_His chiselled jaw tightened as he gave her a curt nod. __{You did, ma'am. I'll have units press further downstream. With the strength of the currents, it is likely that-}_

"I don't care about the fucking technicalities, you daft cunt!" Stone's controlled demeanour unravelled as she stabbed her finger against the screen. Her face contorted into a brutish mask. The entire console swayed violently for several seconds after the contact. "If you don't locate the Subject your life will be forfeit. Is that simple enough for you to understand?"

_{Understood, ma'am.} __This time the nod was sincere__. { We'll get it done. Beta team leader out.}_

Stone said nothing as the grim visage of the Lieutenant disappeared and she was left sitting in her office in silence. The lack of sound went some ways toward dispelling her fury, but it remained simmering just under the surface of her skin – much as it had throughout the preceding weeks. Since _her_ arrival.

It was a simple happenstance that she was stationed at the Athabasca Facility when the Subject – Shepard – had arrived in a stasis pod in an induced coma. The riot of memories dredged up from her subconscious upon seeing the woman again had struck her at the first sight. Unlike Shepard, Naomi had never forgotten their night together on the Citadel. She remembered everything. The way the enigmatic soldier had so effortlessly turned what was otherwise a mundane night out with some of her friends from medical school upside down. Despite her dark, morose exterior, Shepard had been passionate to the point of being all-consuming. Naomi had never felt as alive as in the moment that Shepard – her voice heavy with lust – declared that she wanted to fuck her. At that moment, there had been no question of refusing the marine. The desire and violence wrapped up in that one night had indelibly tainted the rest of her life.

When she saw Shepard again for the first time in eight years, those emotions resurfaced tenfold. It had taken an almost inhuman amount of self-control to force herself to rein everything in behind a pleasant, compassionate exterior. However, with the opportunity of a lifetime practically handed to her on a plate, she was determined to extract every iota of the vengeance that had previously been nothing more than an unattainable dream. Naomi had savoured the pleasure of seeing Shepard humiliated and bound, all the while restraining her darker impulses behind a friendly smile.

She had thought that she would be able to deal with a man like Bryan Heller. Her instincts had told her that he was a man of cruel tendencies and his initial treatment of Shepard had played out by the book. She had often admired and envied the sadistic touches he employed in his work, even as they threatened to push her over the edge. As though her memories had a switch, Naomi summoned the image of Shepard lying on the bed with her gown bunched up around her waist and her own piss drying on her face. Her own apparently compassionate reaction in tugging the gown downward was born out of the need to remove temptation from her reach. She'd then offered Shepard a shower – both for the privacy it offered from the monitoring devices and the opportunity to leer at Shepard under the pretext of helping her. With her heart hammering in her chest, she revelled in the play of water over the ex-marine's naked body as she listened to the promise that she would try and contact her squid-head lover.

Her self-discipline had frayed in the wake of that particular incident to the point where she had needed to relieve her urges on the body of one of the marines stationed at the base. The young woman had seemed willing enough on that occasion and those that followed. She was also smart enough to keep their fucking discreet.

It had been the perfect situation until Heller decided that he was a hero. Everything had swiftly fallen to pieces in the space of less than an hour. Weeks of restraining herself, of careful patience waiting for a time when she would be able to act, it was all ruined. Although Naomi finally had her coveted permission to break Shepard, she knew the marine Lieutenant was probably correct in his assumption that the woman was dead.

With a harsh exhalation, Naomi established a link on her intercom and opened a channel. She hated her own lack of willpower, but she needed an outlet for her tension. "Corporal Daine?"

Only a few moments passed before there was an answer in a youthful female voice. _{Dr Stone, ma'am. What can I do for you?}_

"I need to see you in my office, immediately."

_{Understood, ma'am.}_ If the Corporal was at all reticent about the summons, it was not evident in her tone.

Naomi was drumming her fingers in an impatient rhythm on her desk when the knock at her door finally came. She issued the command to enter in a terse voice but did not turn to look as the door opened and then closed again.

Corporal Daine cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

The slight catch to the younger woman's voice sent a thrill of anticipation travelling down Naomi's spine. She finally swivelled in her chair and turned to face the marine. Her dark hair was tightly bound according to regulations. She had pale blue eyes and a lithe, panther-like body. The physical similarities were definitely there – enough to suit Stone's immediate needs. She stood and stripped the lab coat from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

"I did," Stone replied as she started undoing the buttons of her shirt. "Lock the door behind you and come here"

* * *

**Alberta Wilds, Canada**

Liara was gone when she woke up.

Shepard felt an interminable sense of solitude even before she opened her eyes. Although her clothing was dry and her wounds were dressed, the comforting presence of Liara's memory was gone. She expected her eyes to open to darkness, but instead the interior of the cave was bathed in a dim, eerie light. As she dragged her aching body into a sitting position, she saw that it was bright enough to reflect off the surface of the water.

"Liara?" Her voice was a strange, incongruous addition to her environment. Not only for the fact that it was the only sound other than the rustle of her clothing, but because she felt foolish calling out for someone she knew was not there. The only response she received was a faint echo that confirmed her plight. "Come on, baby. You wouldn't leave me alone in this shithole would you?"

The echo faded and a weak, derisive snort escaped her nose. If she had been talking to herself yesterday, then at least she could explain it away with a concussion. Other than an all-consuming exhaustion and a constant, dull pain, she felt alert and in complete control of her faculties. It did not take Shepard long to realise that she was trying to give herself a reason to find a way out of her current predicament. She'd escaped one prison only to fall into another – although at least this one was not occupied by sadistic doctors.

_If I go back into the river I'll die,_ Shepard thought. Although the mirror-like surface of the water in front of her looked almost beautiful, she knew it held only death below. It was only by some miracle that she had been dragged into the cave in the first place – not as a result of her swimming abilities. At one stage dying had seemed an attractive prospect, now she was desperate to live. _I'm not going to give the Alliance the satisfaction_.

She sighed and pressed the back of her head against the rough wall behind her. It was only when she made an effort to concentrate that clarity came. _The light__...it has to come from somewhere_. With her gaze cast into the reaches of the cavern above her head, Shepard realised that the dim light was filtering down from a fissure. With excitement bubbling in her chest, she dragged herself to her feet – pausing momentarily as a wave of vertigo passed. There was a gap. The light had only ever been dim because it was moonlight that shone through. Although it was difficult to tell precisely how large it was, Shepard thought it might possibly accommodate her slight frame. The only question was whether she could scale the sides of the cave in her condition.

Although Shepard reasoned that she might have a better chance if she rested another day, she could not stomach the thought of remaining trapped and alone for another minute.

"Okay, at least if I fall and break my neck, there won't be anyone to witness my stupidity," Shepard admitted to herself. "Whether real or imagined."

As she started up the lower reaches of the cave, Shepard found the going relatively easy. It would have been almost effortless had she been in peak physical condition, but the wide ledges acted as a sort of staircase leading upwards. After a few minutes of climbing toward the opening in a zig-zag fashion, Shepard glanced downward to find that she had reached the point where a fall would not simply break her leg, but would no doubt kill her. Her climb slowed as she became more cautious with each movement.

When it became necessary to use handholds to drag herself higher she realised her right arm was almost useless. The gunshot wound to her shoulder meant that she could put very little weight on the arm. Instead Shepard had to rely on her left hand – the one she still did not trust. It was only when she suddenly lost her footing and found herself clinging to a ledge by fingers that she did not regard as hers, that she realised just how inhuman it really was. With just the tips of her fingers, she managed to claw her way across to another ledge where she could regain her purchase with her feet.

"Well that was fun," Shepard murmured, flexing the chalky white digits of her left hand. Where flesh would have been grazed and reddened by the abrasive contact, the surface remained unblemished. Unnerved, Shepard ceased staring at it.

As she neared the opening, Shepard only had to draw in a deep breath in order for the sweet smell of damp earth and rotting leaves to reach her nostrils. However as tantalisingly close as escape was, the last four metres or so would require her to manoeuvre up an almost vertical channel of rock. The only way to do it was to wedge her body into the space and walk herself up, keeping her back and feet pressed against either side. A cake walk for an N7 under normal circumstances, it would now be torturously slow going.

Buoyed by the soft breeze filtering downward, Shepard started upwards. She kept her movements small – alternating between walking her feet up a few inches and shuffling her back higher in a wriggling movement. The effort required to keep her body wedged in the channel meant that she was exhausted before she had travelled halfway up the formation. Her shoulder sent stabbing pains throughout the rest of her body each time she put any pressure on it – which was almost constantly. Shepard kept her teeth gritted to avoid crying out. Each breath was sucked laboriously through the gaps in her teeth.

Her final exit would not have won any points for technical execution. With the awkward position of her body, she was forced to hook her feet over the lip of the fissure and use the firm grip of her left hand to drag the rest of her weight from the hole. Shepard flopped free with an involuntary grunt escaping her lips. Much like a fish dumped from a net, she lay gasping for breath on the cold, slightly damp earth. Although the forest canopy overheard was thickly woven, thin shafts of moonlight drove through the gaps and bathed her body in a white light.

Shepard lost all trace of time as she lay, simply revelling in the motions of breathing. At some point she closed her eyes and wandered along the cusp between waking and dreaming. A part of her expected to hear shouts and gunshots in the distance, but there was only the quiet rumble of the river somewhere down below her. The danger was not present enough to spur her to action.

"Evan, you need to move."

A light laugh bubbled from her belly, shaking her entire body. It hurt, but Shepard didn't care. "You choose now to make an appearance? I could've used you while I was clawing my way out of that hole you know."

"Strictly speaking, I am not making an appearance," Liara replied with very little compassion evident in her voice. "And you seem to have managed to drag yourself out of that hole without my help."

"Fine, go away and let me sleep then," Shepard mumbled.

"I cannot do that." Liara's tone was heavy with disapproval.

Although she could not see her, Shepard could easily picture Liara shaking her head stubbornly. It was annoying beyond belief, and yet reassuring at the same time. Still, she was the escaped prisoner with the gunshot wound. Therefore she felt like feeling sorry for herself and being an arse. "Why?" Shepard demanded, making no effort to try and move her exhausted body.

The very clear sound of Liara's sigh reached her ears. "Because I love you."

"Shit," Shepard whispered in response. _Checkmate_. Before she said anything else she went through the motions of hauling her body up into a sitting position. When she opened her eyes the entire scene in front of her swayed as though it was on a colossal topsy-turvy. She blinked a few times and it helped a little. "I guess that means I have to make an effort."

"Yes, it does," Liara said tersely.

For about sixty seconds, Shepard acted with the same determination and decisiveness that had seen her claw her way out of the cave. She managed to stand and make her feet work sufficiently to manage a brisk walk away from the river as though she knew exactly where she was going. However she eventually paused and studied her surroundings with a confused frown.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she said in a small voice. Her gaze jerked left and right but the same sight stretched in every direction – darkness and shadows. There was no sign of Liara, not even at the fringes of her vision. "Where am I supposed to go?"

This time there was no answer. Shepard drew her jacket tightly around her shivering body and continued walking in the same direction. Liara had left her alone again.


	13. A Neatly Punched Hole

**A/N: **I originally posted this without a warning, but in hindsight I think one is definitely warranted. There are (non-descriptive) references to non-consensual sex in this chapter, as well as disturbing inferences which I promise will be resolved in due course without drawing it out.

My grateful thanks for BA Tanglepaw's stellar input into this chapter!

Without further ado...

**Chapter Thirteen**  
**A Neatly Punched Hole**

**Alberta Wilds, Canada**

_Ash is going to be pissed,_ Miranda told herself in a worried internal voice. She traced an absent-minded pattern over the N7 Hurricane clipped into the weapon-holder beside her. _So, so pissed. _She even suffered a brief bout of panic when her mind turned to the worst possible reaction Ash could have had in response to the lies in her concise message. _I'm not ready for this relationship to be over…not now, or at any stage in the future_. Even as the shuttle bucked violently and she slammed her head against the bulkhead beside her, she could think of nothing else.

"Miranda, are you okay?" Liara's question finally interrupted her train of thought. "You appear slightly pale."

"Fine," Miranda replied tersely. She suddenly felt claustrophobic. The tiny shuttle had no viewing ports, so she closed her eyes instead.

As the shuttle bounced its way across North American airspace, Miranda's thoughts inexplicably wandered to her childhood. Although the period in her life could not remotely be labelled idyllic, she could not argue with the fact that Henry Lawson had ensured that she was provided with the best of everything. Her living environment had been carefully designed before her birth to reflect the pinnacle of functionality and pleasing aesthetics. Even so, it was still a prison disguised as a home. Miranda could not remember a time when she did not have tutors. There had been a trio with five doctorates and not an ounce of empathy between them. At the age of five, a combat instructor had been introduced – an ex ICT candidate who would have frightened most children simply by looking at them. Her diet did not deviate from a prescribed nutritional programme. Provided she performed optimally in all aspects of instruction, Miranda had almost everything she asked for. At an early age she learned which requests would be granted and which would be ignored. New clothes, shoes and innovative educational toys were approved. Frivolous gadgets and a puppy were not. While she felt _something_ at the denial of her requests, it was not anger or distress. It was only when she was older, as she caught brief glimpses of other children from the sealed environment of her chauffeured car, that she realised it was envy. Despite everything she had, Miranda had been envious of the skinny, dirty little children playing in the street with their equally skinny dogs. The topic of envy subsequently arose on numerous occasions with her therapist. The woman's eventual response to her incessant questions was simply that some people were simply born to be better than others, and that was the last of the matter.

Numerous high-ranking officers within Cerberus had been of the same opinion about humanity's role in the Galaxy. Humans were simply destined to play a dominant role on the galactic stage, as evidenced by their dramatic contribution in the brief decades since First Contact. The fact that they had constantly been stymied and treated like children by some of the established races had contributed to a growing sense of discontent within both the Alliance and the civilian government. While Miranda had been aware of its presence, she had not realised the extent to which such viewpoints had infiltrated all levels of society until her discussions with Liara and Hannah Shepard. While she knew it was ridiculous, she could not help but create an analogy with her own situation. Perhaps if she had simply been given the damn puppy, she would not have rebelled so spectacularly.

The facile contemplations were very quickly stifled soon after they arose and Miranda turned her attention toward double-checking the bindings on her armour. This was undoubtedly not the time to lament her shitty childhood. As she stood, the shuttle yet again bucked violently beneath her and she was forced to clutch for the nearest support. There was a loud thump behind her as David Codrington was thrown from the bench on which he had been sleeping. Even though the civilian was clad in his own set of armour, he was decidedly unconvincing as he struggled to haul himself to his feet.

"Christ, mate!" he bellowed toward the cockpit. "You're bloody well doing that on purpose."

Mack turned over his shoulder with barely concealed amusement on his craggy features. "Can't help it that the controls on this thing are more sensitive than my first wife's tits. I did tell you to strap yourself in."

Miranda had to admit that the handling properties of Liara's small shuttle left a lot to be desired. It reacted to even the smallest amounts of turbulence, making the far larger Cerberus shuttles and Alliance Kodiaks feel luxurious in comparison. Still, the craft's limited stealth capabilities more than made up for its poor handling and cramped interior.

As David settled himself back on the bench, he muttered under his breath as he pulled a set of restraints over his bulky frame. Up front in the cockpit, Pericles Macklin was currently withering under the dagger-like glare of Hannah Shepard – probably in response to the comment about his 'first wife's tits.' Although Miranda had done her best not to notice or care, she had been forced to witness Mack's persistent flirting with the Rear-Admiral on several occasions.

Once the shuttle had levelled out, Miranda resumed tightening the bindings on her armour. Although she could comfortably manage each strap on her own, she suddenly felt an uninvited pair of hands adjusting the straps around her backplate.

"You know, it's not the first set of armour I've ever worn," Miranda commented, unable to keep a trace of annoyance from her voice.

"I know," Liara replied as she made no move to stop her efforts. "But it is difficult to get the ceramic plates on this model to sit comfortably." Her hands moved to Miranda's hips, tugging sharply on the plates to test how snugly they fitted. "And since this set was custom made for me, I should think that a few adjustments are necessary to ensure a correct fit."

Miranda eventually gave up trying to resist Liara's assistance. Less than a minute later she found that Liara had somehow taken over the process completely while she simply raised and lowered her limbs as bidden.

"It's a nice suit." Miranda felt driven to say something. Even though they were hardly in silence as the shuttle lacked noise dampeners, she found the whole situation awkward. At least the comment made sense. With power recharging nodes and in-built tech armour, it was as though the suit had been tailor-made for her. In fact, each suit worn by their team was top of the line. "All this gear, the shuttle - where did you find the credits for this sort of tech?"

"I have…resources," Liara replied evasively. She had to conceal her surprise. When she had admitted to Ashley Williams that she was the Shadow Broker just prior to leaving the _Normandy_, she had honestly expected her to share the information with Miranda. Apparently the Commander's integrity was such that she would not break a promise, not even when it came to her lover.

"And an N7 Hurricane?" It had been sitting amidst the small arsenal of weapons on-board the shuttle. Miranda had naturally gravitated toward the SMG she had used on Alcyone. "I've only ever seen one, and it was Shepard's."

"It is the same weapon," Liara admitted in a quiet voice. The Hurricane had been amongst the few of Shepard's possessions she had removed from the _Normandy_. She quickly changed the subject, slapping Miranda once on the back. "You are good to go."

"But for all your resources, this is the best help you could afford?" Miranda asked as she turned to face Liara. She could not help but cast a glance toward David who had already fallen asleep again. Up ahead in the cockpit, Hannah and Mack were either arguing or at least having a very heated debate.

"I had not intended to offer you payment for your services, Miranda," Liara said quietly.

Miranda was annoyed that she could not tell whether Liara was being serious or trying to lighten the mood. With the gravity of the mission, she suspected the former. "I don't want to be paid, I'm just quite fond of living at the moment," she snapped in reply, her words harsher than she would have liked. _Even if my girlfriend dumps me after this is over._

Liara arched an eyebrow. "And how is the formidable Commander Williams?"

"We're not really doing this are we?" Miranda demanded as she took a seat. At the questioning expression on Liara's face she continued, "Small talk? The last time I tried to have a casual conversation with you, you told me to shut up."

"Not in so many words," Liara murmured politely. Her reaction to Miranda's attempt to explain her sexual relationship with Shepard had been volatile, but she did not recall telling the human woman to 'shut up.' Before Miranda could protest at their awkward proximity, Liara sat down directly beside her. The cramped bench meant that they were jostled against one another each time the shuttle hit turbulence – which was frequently.

"Ash is fine," Miranda eventually replied with a shrug. "Currently intimidating and threatening reporters from every news outlet on Earth, but otherwise fine." She exhaled loudly in a manner that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. "I lied to her in order to help you…so our relationship might not be fine."

Liara had built much of her new life around lies, but she could still sympathise with Miranda. "I am sorry."

"So am I." Miranda shook her head slowly. "Don't misunderstand me though, I am grateful that you requested my help. Shepard is…" Her voice trailed off as she was unable to think of an appropriate way to finish the sentence. In Liara's presence, anything that she could say would no doubt seem trivial.

The asari did not respond for some time. She simply sat in a sort of contemplative silence. Unlike earlier, Miranda did not feel the need to say anything.

"Even if I had a choice in squadmates for this mission," Liara began. "I would have chosen you."

When Miranda swallowed, her throat felt like sandpaper. "Why?"

"You know why," Liara responded quietly. She deliberately met Miranda's questioning gaze. "It is the same reason that _you_ chose me to search for Shepard's body three years ago."

* * *

Although Shepard felt uneasy moving during broad daylight, she knew that she had to put as much distance between herself and the Alliance facility as possible.

_For all you know, Ev, you could be going in circles…or heading straight back toward that hellhole. _She allowed herself a brief rest – just a moment really – where she propped her back up against a tree and caught her breath. Less than a minute later, she forced herself to move again.

While Shepard was fairly certain that she was not going in circles, it could entirely be possible that she was walking straight back into the arms of Dr Stone. She was operating purely on instinct and very little else – no sleep and a continually protesting stomach. There was half a protein bar left in her pocket, but she was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible. The one thing she did have was an over-abundance of water. It had commenced raining around mid-morning and had steadily increased until even the trees overhead provided little protection. While the jacket that Heller had provided was waterproof, her Alliance sweats were soaked through and the unfamiliar boots had turned each foot into one giant blister. Shepard could not remember being so uncomfortable since her days at ICT. Prior to reaching N6, the candidates were frequently dropped in hostile environments - on several occasions with no gear and wearing only civvies. However the crucial difference was that failure then would have cost only her place in the programme, not her life.

_Still, back then failure would have been tantamount to dying,_ Shepard thought. An effort at a wry smile faltered on her face. She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted the N7 designation. N1 through to N6 had been gruelling, but her confidence had remained intact throughout. It was only with the end in sight that she began to doubt her abilities as a Special Forces operative. _I even swore off sex for the duration of the fucking course._ This time the smile did emerge – although it was more of a self-deprecating grimace.

With nothing but ominous grey clouds visible between the gaps in the canopy overhead, it was difficult for Shepard to gauge the time of day. She estimated that it was approaching early evening, but it could just as easily have been mid-afternoon. Twice during the day she had heard the unmistakable sound of a Kodiak drop shuttle. Although both had been some distance from her position, she had not dared move until they had passed. Shepard could only hope that the poor visibility hampered the Alliance's search instruments.

_It's probably a good thing that my body heat is virtually non-existent._ Shepard knew she'd be dead if that was truly the case, but she was nevertheless chilled to the bone. It was one of the reasons she did not dare rest for more than a minute in case her body temperature dropped even further.

"It's fucking freezing," she muttered aloud. It was the first time she'd spoken since Liara's presence had left. It was an effort just to force the words between her teeth.

A few moments later Shepard felt as though she had hit a wall. It was as though uttering the three words had sapped the last remnants of her strength. She felt her legs seize up to the point where it was difficult to simply place one foot in front of the other. Although she knew that her body was trying to tell her something, Shepard stubbornly pushed onward. It was only when she heard the sound of a third shuttle overheard, that she dropped beneath a fallen tree and lay motionless. Her breath misted into rapid but weak wisps in front of her face as she waited for the sound to pass.

_That's not a Kodiak._ Shepard was surprised that her mind was still functioning at that level, especially when her eyelids began to grow heavy. "Shit" Her own voice jerked her back to wakefulness, but it was only the desperate kind of forced consciousness. _You're not stopping until dark, Ev. Another couple of hours and then you can curl up in some cozy little hole. _She reached into her pocket and withdrew the remnants of the protein bar. One careful bite was all she allowed herself. As she chewed slowly and deliberately, she tried to summon the energy that would drive her back to her feet. It never came.

* * *

"Stay with the shuttle," David growled aloud as he slapped his palm against the console of the offending vehicle. It felt good to give voice to his frustrations. "Stay with the bloody shuttle?"

He knew that Dr T'Soni's instructions had come only out of the best intentions to keep him safe, but that did not improve his mood. David was the first to admit that he was a piss-poor soldier at best. However as he clutched firmly onto the M-96 Mattock in his hand, he knew that he could at least pull a trigger.

Mack had set the shuttle down in a tiny clearing fifteen minutes earlier, branches scraping against its sides as he guided the tiny craft into land. The four of them – T'Soni, Hannah Shepard, Mack and the Lawson woman – had set out almost immediately, all guided solely by some sort of instinct that T'Soni seemed to have about Shepard's whereabouts. While he was suited up and ready to go, she'd ordered him to stay behind like some sort of liability. While Mack had given him an apologetic shrug, Lawson had merely nodded approvingly at the decision_. Bitch_, was David's judgement of the stunningly cold woman.

Desperately needing some fresh air, David extricated himself from the pilot's chair. He dimly remembered being told to remain inside the shuttle, but felt a juvenile thrill of rebellion as he slammed his palm against the door mechanism. A misty, damp scene greeted him as the shuttle door opened. David drew in a deep breath of the heady aroma of pine needles and damp earth. _Definitely smells better than London_, he thought appreciatively as he stepped outside.

Although Liara's orders were stuck on repeat in his head, the assault rifle in his hands made him feel slightly invincible. He'd fired assault rifles numerous times throughout the war, but they'd only ever been M-8 Avengers. The Mattock felt as though it could do some serious damage. On a whim, he tucked the butt of the rifle into his shoulder and peered down the sight lines. A few moments later, he snorted and tucked it back under his arm. _You're like a little boy playing soldier_, David chided himself. His eldest boy, Andrew, had been studious and quiet. However his two youngest, Jane and Max loved nothing more than orchestrating military manoeuvres through their neighbourhood park with their toy rifles. Amanda had scolded him for buying the kids guns, but David had only shrugged and said that wanting to grow up to be a soldier was perfectly fine for any kid. He sighed. His kids never had the chance to grow up.

David was lamenting the loss of his family photo when he suddenly felt as though something or someone had taken his legs out from beneath him. He hit the ground hard with a pained grunt and rolled down the sharp slope in front of him before he could stop himself. It was only when he was sliding through the mud on his idiot arse that he realised that he'd been careless enough to lose his footing on the damp earth. With his arms flailing wildly, he tried to arrest his momentum, but his only accomplishment was to lose hold of the rifle in his hand. It was all he could do to keep his grunts and squeals of fright to a minimum.

Several sudden, terrifying vertical drops later, David finally came to a halt only when his armoured body met a rock that it could not bounce over. Decently winded, he lay on his back with the insistent rain pattering a mocking beat on his flushed cheeks.

"I should have stayed with the shuttle," he groaned as he picked himself up.

Feeling nothing other than humiliation, David hoped that he could follow the path his bulk had carved through the undergrowth. However as he turned to regard the sheer cliff he'd tumbled over, he knew that there was no way in hell he could hope to climb it. _I fell down that?_ he asked himself in disbelief.

"Freeze!" a cold, harsh voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Move and I blow your fucking brains out!"

"I-I'm not moving." David instinctively lifted his hands above his head. He could tell very little about the person other than that they were female and they had not made a sound approaching him.

"Slowly take out your weapons and drop them on the ground."

With the Mattock lost during his fall, David was completely unarmed. He didn't even have a paltry knife tucked into his boot. "Um…I haven't got any."

"What the hell…" The woman's voice trailed off in what David thought to be disappointment. When she continued, the strength in her voice had faded. "Keep your hands in the air and turn around…slowly."

With his heart feeling as if it was in his throat as opposed to his chest, David made deliberately careful movements. At any moment, he expected to hear the sudden bark of a gun that would pre-empt his life ending. However there was no sound other than that of his panicked breathing and raindrops thunking against his armour. When he turned fully, his jaw dropped. David had expected to find an entire squad of trigger-happy Alliance soldiers. He found one lone woman. Her dark, wet hair was plastered to a deathly pale face with a nasty contusion on her forehead. Most of her body was concealed beneath a bulky jacket save for her legs which were clad in ripped, stained jogging trousers.

David's hands began to drift downwards - not because she wasn't a threat, but because he recognised her. "C-Commander Shepard?"

"Used to be," she replied in a now tremulous voice. David could see her blue-tinged lips quivering as a result of the cold. "These days…it's just Shepard. Who the hell are you?"

"David Codrington, I'm here to rescue you." It sounded ridiculous even as he said it. _You're not here to rescue her, you dolt! _"I'm here with-"

The otherwise eerie peace within the ravine was suddenly torn apart by fire and light. David was staring at Shepard as she threw herself forward and to the ground. However when he tried to move toward her, he simply fell forward onto his knees. When he glanced down at his chest plate, he saw several large tears in the ceramic plating. The trail of red leaking out of each was his own blood.

"Oh," he whispered as he toppled forward.

Seconds later hands were grabbing at his body, turning him over. David found himself staring up at Shepard, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

"Please tell me you've got some medigel, David?" she asked, fumbling at the straps to his armour.

He shook his head weakly. Another item forgotten. A soldier would have medigel – but he was no soldier. "You need to leave," he protested, trying to push her away with a feeble shove.

It was Shepard's turn to shake her head. Instead she propped him up on her lap to ease his laboured breathing without realising that she was mirroring the exact position they'd been in several weeks earlier.

_The tunnel._ When comprehension eventually dawned, Shepard let out a sharp sob. She recognised David's face as the one she had seen in the darkness. "I know you," she whispered. "You're the one that found me."

David smiled with red stained teeth. "I told her...I did something right. I told her…"

Although his eyes were still open and staring up at her, Shepard knew that the man was dead. He was little more than a stranger, and yet she felt as though she had lost a friend. A part of her knew that she had to run, but there was nowhere to go. Not now that the Alliance was this close.

When they came less than half a minute later, they had to prise her away from David's corpse – which they did without an iota of compassion. Two soldiers dragged her backwards and one clubbed her over the head with the butt of his rifle. Shepard managed only a weak cry in response. When the first boot thudded into her gut, she doubled over in an effort to protect herself against subsequent blows.

"That's enough!"

Even half-conscious, Shepard recognised the female voice instantly. It was the voice that had haunted what little sleep she had managed to snatch over the past few days. Dr Naomi Stone. Shepard couldn't see her through the hazy veil that shrouded her vision, but she could easily imagine the gloating smile on the woman's face.

"Lieutenant, find out where the hell he came from," Stone ordered, referring to David. "If he's got friends, find them and kill them. You two, help me get Shepard back to the shuttle."

Shepard was aware that Stone was kneeling in the dirt beside her head. "Thought you wanted me dead?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Trust me, I do, Evan," Stone replied – her smile clearly evident in her jubilant tone. "But only after I've finished with you."

* * *

With every step, Liara was aware of Evan's presence. It was almost as though her lover hovered just at the edge of her vision. Traces of her scent lingered beneath her nostrils, but if she tried to drink it in with a deep breath it cruelly disappeared. Through the HUD display within her helmet, all Liara could make out was an endless sea of trees. Their uppermost reaches were blanketed in a thick mist that echoed her mood. She turned her head slightly and briefly caught sight of the dark shape of Miranda Lawson gliding across the landscape. The ex-Cerberus operative was wearing a helmet with a tinted visor, revealing nothing of herself that could jeopardise her Alliance career. Mack and Hannah Shepard were some distance behind – the mercenary keeping close to the Rear Admiral in a protective fashion.

As Evan remained tantalisingly close but brutally out of reach, Liara began to feel a sense of dread stirring in her gut. Her resolute assurances to the rest of the squad had made it seem like physically finding her would be a formality. Hannah Shepard had guided them within several miles of the Alliance facility, and she had picked out an LZ that _felt _right. Now, with her feet actually on the ground, it was an entirely different game. As every minute passed, Liara was drawn closer to the point where she would have to admit to her squadmates that she was wrong. They would have no means to find Evan other than to wander aimlessly and run the risk of falling foul of the Alliance forces in the area.

_Is that not what you are doing now?_ Liara asked herself. _Wandering aimlessly? _Liara exhaled harshly, her breath momentarily misting on the inside of her visor before it faded. She could _feel_ Evan. Although the emotions were clouded, she could sense enough to know that her bondmate's mind was ridden with fear and self-doubt. _We're both lost_, she thought in despair.

The break through eventually came not as a result of her bond with Evan, but with the gunshots. A short, sharp spread from an assault rifle drove her briefly into a defensive crouch. To her right she saw Miranda make several concise signals indicating the direction and possible distance. Although her rational mind knew that she had to approach the source with caution, the flash of pain that erupted like a starburst inside her mind drove such thinking away almost instantly. Liara started running, continuing even after she heard Miranda's plea for her to stop. When she eventually made out the unmistakable figure of an Alliance solider in the distance, she lost her remaining vestiges of control and threw herself into a biotic charge.

* * *

Shepard hit the deck of the Kodiak face first. Her first instinct was to pick herself up, but her chilled limbs would not work properly. Even when she felt hands stripping the jacket from her upper body, all she could do was allow herself to be manipulated like a ragdoll. She ended up on her back, staring up at the only other person in the belly of the shuttle – Naomi Stone. In her mind, Shepard saw her fists clenching into white knuckled balls of rage and slamming into Stone's face. The smug expression would instantly be wiped from her face. However in reality all she was able to do was flex her fingers as Stone knelt at her side. With the jacket gone, she was clad in just her sweat-stained t-shirt and trousers. It wasn't long before her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

"…cunt." It was meant to be offensive, condemning the behaviour of the woman, but the whisper that emerged sounded like a child daring to say a forbidden word.

"I must admit that bastard Heller was smarter than I gave him credit for." Just the sound of Stone's voice was enough to make Shepard's stomach churn. "I thought he was some bastard who got his rocks off by toying with his patients. Well, turns out he really did have a pair of balls after all…even if he was just another sad, delusional devotee to the cult of Shepard."

As she spoke, Stone had begun to run the tips of her fingers over the hollow at the base of Shepard's throat. The touch was deliberately gentle but left Shepard's skin crawling. Without warning, she suddenly moved to straddle Shepard's hips. She cried out as her weakened body protested at the additional weight. Stone laughed. Eventually she wrapped her slender fingers around her throat.

"You know what you are, Evan?" Stone asked quietly as she squeezed with ever increasing intensity. "You are a fraud."

The psychopathic bitch's words made absolutely no sense. Had she been able to form words properly, or remotely inclined to argue with her, Shepard would have said that she had never claimed to be anything other than a simple soldier. What other people chose to believe about her was their own business. She had asked for nothing since fate had propelled her aboard the _Normandy_ and into the path of that first Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. All she had done, every step of the way, was her job.

"I know you don't remember our night together on the Citadel," Stone continued in a monotone. "Well I remember that night. I remember every detail in crystal clarity. The way you stripped my clothes off – you wanted me so badly that I couldn't help but be flattered at first. This hot-as-hell marine actually wanted me. Who wouldn't be flattered? Then you threw me on the bed and pressed me down with your body weight." Stone leaned forward. "Much like this. Am I too heavy, Evan? Can you breathe? Well I panicked suddenly and asked you to stop. You acted as though you didn't hear me. Maybe you didn't…but that doesn't change anything," Stone whispered. She laughed pitifully. "All that matters is that I asked you to stop, Evan Shepard, and you didn't. You. Fucking. Didn't."

"Nnn…" _I asked you to stop_. She needed to refute the allegation. Shepard squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to focus, to remember. However between the drugs and her own faulty memory, that night on the Citadel was lost beyond her reach. "I-I…" Her damned voice wouldn't even work as she desperately wanted to explain to Stone that she had never used a woman like that. She was incapable of hurting someone in such a cruel and unforgivable manner. _I wouldn't…_

"I'm not hearing much of an explanation from you," Stone said in a cold voice as she leaned backwards, taking the weight from Shepard's chest. "No protestations of innocence? Could it be because you know you're guilty?" Shepard could not lift her head and she could no longer see Stone. Her gut churned as the other woman continued, "I know I should have gone straight to C-sec but I was just as drunk as you. I was scared that they would laugh me out of their office. So I held onto my hate for eight years. Have you any idea how much hate can multiply over eight fucking years, Evan?"

_What if she's telling the truth? What kind of monster does that make me?_

"And to think, after biding my time for eight years I was finally presented with the opportunity to repay you for the humiliation you caused me," Stone continued. "You were literally wheeled into the facility where I worked - helpless in front of me. The fates themselves could not have been kinder. They wanted me to have this moment."

Shepard suddenly felt something pressing against her stomach, biting into her skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Even as it travelled upwards, she could not tell what it was – not until Stone was stripping the remnants of fabric from her upper body and waving the bloody tip of the knife in front of her face. Shepard was so numb that she had not felt it cut into her skin. With any luck, she would be too numb to feel what came after as well.

Stone was grinning. "I wouldn't feel so bad, Evan. At least you won't have to live with the memory of it for eight years-"

At the back of her mind Shepard heard several intimately familiar sounds – gunfire and biotic explosions. They were dimmed almost out of earshot within the cocoon created by the shuttle, but Stone's panicked reaction told her everything she needed to know. The doctor fell backwards, away from Shepard's body and onto her haunches.

"I still have friends, Stone." It took a determined effort for the words to leave her lips, but it was her turn to feel smug. "And I'm not sure how many of yours will be left after they've met mine."

No sooner had the words left her lips, the sealed door of the shuttle was torn outwards with a brutal wrenching of metal. Both Shepard and Stone cried out at the sudden pain, clamping their hands against their ears in matching movements. While that simple action sapped most of Shepard's strength, she saw Stone scramble away from the door in terror. Although the sight of her curling into a foetal position in abject terror ought to have been a satisfying experience, she felt only a hollow emptiness in the moments before her vision clouded and everything went dark.

"Evan!"

When someone calling her name drew her out of what felt like a comfortable sleep, she tried to crease her brow in an irritated scowl.

"Evan!"

The second time she recognised the voice. The absent bondmate had seen fit to return – no doubt to offer paltry words of encouragement before fucking off again. "Trying t'sleep," she muttered, keeping her eyes resolutely closed. Waking up would only force her to face the fact that she was freezing, in pain, and terrified of what she might have done to Stone.

Everything changed the moment warm fingers touched her cheek. It was the barest contact, more of a caress than a touch, but it sent heat flooding throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes opened at the moment she drew in a grateful breath. The face that had intermittently haunted her waking moments filled her vision. Her sapphire eyes burned with an intensity that was almost frightening, but Shepard was drawn straight into their depths. Her lips parted in amazement when she grasped the reality of the physical contact.

"Liara," Shepard whispered. "You're real, you're here." The fresh-faced scientist of her memories was gone, replaced by an angel of vengeance clad in black leather glistening with freshly spilled blood.

"Of course I am," was the tremulous reply. Liara's eyes burned, and yet the adrenaline coursing through her veins would not allow her the relief of tears – even at the sight of her pale, battered lover. Dried blood and matted hair surrounded a contusion on Shepard's forehead. Her upper body was naked, with a thin cut running from navel to sternum. Although Liara very clearly saw relief in her gaze, the underlying trauma was palpable.

A sudden noise behind her drove her to turn, Carnifex in hand, to address a potential threat. However it was only Mack – red-hot Mattock in hand, breathing heavily as he leaned against the shuttle's ruined doorway.

"Hey, kid, we've secured the immediate area, but you can bet Aria's arse that they'll be closing in on us in a matter of minutes. Lawson has been hit pretty hard – stubborn bitch is insisting she's fine but she's not," he informed her tersely. "Is Shepard okay? We good to go?"

Liara nodded in reply to both his questions. "I'll need you to help me. Hand me that coat." She bade Mack pass her the discarded coat as he clambered inside the Kodiak. Although she desperately wanted to be the one to carry Shepard out of there, she knew she lacked the strength.

"Miranda's here?" Shepard asked through chattering teeth as Liara carefully wrapped the garment around her torso.

"Yes," Liara replied succinctly. "And your mother-"

"...the fuck!" Shepard hissed.

"-but we can fill you in on the details when this place is behind us. Mack, you've got her – please be careful."

"Stone…did you kill her?" Shepard whispered as she was hoisted up by the New Zealander. He lifted her as though he was holding a fragile package.

Guessing that Shepard meant the woman she'd thrown against the Kodiak's bulkhead minutes earlier, Liara shook her head. The blonde was lying in a dazed heap, her faint movements were accompanied by quiet groans. "Not yet," Liara replied, briefing smoothing her hand against Shepard's damp hair. The cold chill to her voice was completely at odds with the tender gesture.

"You can't kill her." Shepard tried to shake her head to emphasise her words. _Not after what I did to her_.

Although Liara had seen very little, finding Shepard half-naked and half-conscious had been more than enough to elicit a furious outburst. However her concern for her bondmate meant that the initial attack against the woman had been the only one. "Evan-"

"Liara!" There was a steel edge to Shepard's voice. Liara looked down to find a stark white hand wrapped around her forearm. The gasp on her lips was cut short beneath a withering glare. "Promise me!"

It was all Liara could do to offer a mute nod in response. Shepard held on for a few more seconds before releasing her hold. Mack whisked her out of the shuttle and back out into the rain without a further word. Liara followed, her brisk gaze took in the chaos that littered the forest floor surrounding the Alliance Kodiak. The bodies of dead marines lay as if they had simply been picked up and thrown by some colossal hand. Even the steadily falling rain was not enough to rinse the massive amounts of blood from the soil. Hannah Shepard was trying to help Miranda, even as the other woman was obviously protesting that she was fine. Her blood-soaked right arm hung limply at her side. The dark visor of her helmet masked that pain that had to be registering on her face. Eventually she gave up struggling and accepted a hand around her waist. Although Liara was all too aware that Alliance forces would be closing in on their position, she allowed herself a brief moment to simply absorb what her squad had accomplished. _Evan is alive and safe_. She needed to repeat the thought several times before she was able to accept the simple truth. Everything they had both suffered throughout the previous seven months was almost over.

_Almost, but not quite_.

Liara heard another weak groan from within the shuttle. In the wake of her promise to Evan, she could not possibly keep the promise she had made to herself. The knowledge of what she would do to her bondmate's captors had sustained her, fuelled the anger that raged in her gut, and she was unable to let it go so easily. Her Carnifex was holstered at her side, unused as she ripped her way biotically through Alliance forces. Barely a second passed between the palm of her hand pressing against the grip and the moment she fired. The blonde woman slumped to the ground, a neatly punched hole in the centre of her forehead, her blood and brain matter glistening on the bulkhead behind her. Liara felt nothing in response, not even a dull sense of satisfaction, but it would have to be enough.

Shepard drifted in and out of consciousness with the motion of being carried. Each time she woke, her reaction was slightly different. At one stage she was too tired to give a damn about anything, wanting only to escape back into the calming fog of sleep. When she woke again she panicked, believing that she had been recaptured. However the only face she saw was that of a weathered stranger. The reassuring grin he offered in response to her distress was so rakish that she knew immediately she was safe. Her eyelids felt as though they were tethered to weights drawing them closed and darkness descended yet again.

She awoke with a start. Panic arose again, but Liara was there. Shepard tried to manage a grin of her own, but her plan faltered when she could not make her lips do anything other than twitch slightly. Liara reached out and smoothed a clump of hair from her forehead and Shepard fought to stay awake this time. She did not want to have to stop staring at her bondmate. Beneath the relief and concern on Liara's weary features, Shepard thought she could see traces of something else. However it remained elusive. Liara was too adept at masking her emotions.

"We are almost at the shuttle," Liara offered quietly.

_What happens then? _Shepard couldn't give actual voice to the question, but it nevertheless lingered. Tendrils of doubt and self-loathing tempered the rescue and the otherwise overwhelming joy of seeing Liara again. _It's all over? We start the rest of our lives together with me as a hunted fugitive and guilty of doing…that to someone_. She could not even bring herself to think it.

The fact that the shuttle door had been left open caused alarm that even Shepard could pick up on. Mack began calling out for David even as Liara, more sensibly, tried to contact him via his omni-tool.

"He's dead…he died," Shepard informed them in a weak voice. "He found me…the Alliance found us both."

Her strength would not allow a more in-depth explanation, not even after she watched the obvious anguish pass across Liara's face. It was gone a split second later, buried by the need to act quickly. Shepard regretted the fact that the man's body would have to remain where he had fallen. She instinctively equated it with the painful memory of leaving Kasumi's body alone in the Collector vessel.

Mack gently placed her in the shuttle's interior, settling her against one of the bulkheads before strapping her in. She nodded to indicate she was fine. It felt strange to be a mere observer as the rest of the squad moved purposefully around her. Usually she was the one orchestrating everything. Mack moved to the cockpit to fire up the shuttle, while Liara and Hannah helped Miranda on board. Shepard resolutely ignored each of her mother's pained glances in her direction, instead concentrating on her wounded friend.

"We are good to go, Mack!" Liara slapped the back of the pilot's chair moments after slamming the shuttle door closed. "Get us the hell out of here." The asari then strapped herself into the co-pilot's chair following an anxious glance behind her to check that her bondmate was secure in her seat.

"Can someone take my fucking helmet off?" Miranda demanded as she slumped into the seat opposite Shepard. "I can't breathe in this thing."

As the shuttle began a rapid ascent with Mack not caring how much of the external paintwork he ruined, Hannah hunkered down next to Miranda to help with the helmet. Miranda's clammy, chalk white face was revealed a few moments later. Her raven hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat.

"For fuck's sake, don't touch my arm!" Miranda snapped as the older woman tried to help her. "Just get me a kit and I'll stabilise it myself."

It was only when Hannah put some distance between herself and Miranda's snarling face that Shepard could clearly see her arm. She didn't need a medical degree to tell that the arm was broken. She could clearly see bone protruding from the bloody mess.

"Slapping gel on that…not going to help," Shepard observed helpfully. Her voice was barely audible over the shuttle's protesting engines.

Miranda managed a pained grin in response. "Speak for yourself, Shepard. Although in your case, a bag over your head might about do it." She let out a shaky breath. "It's bloody to see you though."

"Likewise," Shepard replied. Her brow furrowed as she noticed something. "Are you crying, Miranda?"

"Hell no." It was obvious that she was. "I'm just…really glad you're safe."

"Knew you cared about me," Shepard added.

"Piss off, Shepard," Miranda sniffed.

As Miranda accepted the medical kit from Hannah with her good arm and turned her attention to relieving her own pain, Shepard was forced instead to focus on her mother. As Hannah strapped herself into the seat next to Miranda, she glanced across with the same hopeful, almost desperate expression on her face. It served no other purpose than to make Shepard feel sick to her stomach at the memory of the woman helping the Alliance. Regardless of her subsequent actions, nothing could change the fact that she had the power to spare her the pain of the past few weeks.

Hannah cleared her throat. "Evie…sweetie-"

"I've got nothing to say to you, Hannah," Shepard interrupted coldly. She was sore and exhausted. David Codrington – a mere civilian who barely knew her had given his life to save hers. Although Miranda was stubbornly trying to administer her own painkillers, it was a serious wound – received saving her life. All she wanted to do was fall into a deep, hopefully dreamless sleep.

Her mother was determined. "Please, hear me out-"

"Fuck off!" Shepard snarled, momentarily leaning as far forward as her harness allowed. She found a measure of strength in her anger. "You're not my fucking mother so stop trying to pretend you are."

With her heart hammering in her chest, she collapsed back into the seat. She was gasping in deep lungfuls of air when Liara's frame cast a shadow over her. The asari dropped down onto her knees in front of her bondmate, concern writ plainly on her features as she grasped both of Shepard's hands in her own. Suddenly conscious that Liara was holding onto her artificial hand, Shepard tried to tug it free. Liara refused to be budged, instead tightening her grip.

"Don't," Shepard protested. "How can you stand to touch that thing? It's not my fucking hand."

"It's a part of you," Liara replied simply.

"Let it go!"

"You need to calm down, Evan," Liara said, pressing the crystalline fingers fiercely against her lips for a long moment. Retaining her grip on the artificial hand, she revealed a hypospray tucked into the palm of her other hand. Shepard did not protest as she felt it press against the almost numb flesh of her neck. "Goddess, after everything you've been through…"

Shepard's eyelids lowered as Liara's voice trailed off. As much as she wanted to stare at Liara every waking moment for the rest of her life, the demons at the back of her mind would not allow her to be grateful for anything that had happened. She felt the fast-acting drugs take over.

_All that matters is that I asked you to stop, Evan Shepard, and you didn't. You. Fucking. Didn't._

"I'm calm…I promise," Shepard murmured. "Help Miranda."

"I intend to," Liara assured her. "But you need to trust me when I say that you're safe."

"I need to tell you…" _Tell you…what exactly. That I hurt someone?_

"Whatever it is, it can wait." Liara stood and pressed her lips against Shepard's dirty forehead. "I love you, Evan. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

Shepard replied in words that were barely formed and inaudible, but Liara picked up on the sentiment behind them all the same. She stood and watched patiently for a few moments as her lover's breathing evened out and she rapidly slipped into unconsciousness. It was only when she was certain that Shepard was asleep that she allowed herself to fall into the seat next to her. The weight she had been struggling under for several days suddenly seemed to be pressing down, crushing her until it became difficult to breathe. Between the swelling sobs and her gasps for air, the sounds that emerged from her mouth were not pretty.

"Hey," Miranda called out, pausing in her self-treatment. "She's safe. You did it."

Liara stared at the raven-haired woman through a watery gaze. She then turned to regard Shepard. The woman softly snoring beside her seemed barely recognisable as the confidant, strong marine she had fallen in love with almost four years earlier. Even as she slept her entire body twitched fitfully as though she was still living her captivity through her nightmares. Despite her own exhaustion, Liara dashed her hand across her eyes and sniffed nosily before she rose to her feet. She paused in front of her lover. Regardless of how much of her Evan was left inside that battered shell, she had not come this far only to lose her again. She bent at the waist and deposited a kiss on each of Shepard's eyelids. As she straightened, the sleeping woman uttered a quiet sigh and her tense limbs slackened.

Liara moved the few steps to kneel in front of Miranda, taking the medical kit from the woman's trembling hand and setting it on the floor beside her. Miranda looked as though she was on the brink of passing out.

"Yes, but at what cost?" Liara asked, as much to alleviate her own fears as to keep Miranda talking. She selected the strongest painkilling meds in the kit.

Miranda's expression was torn between a frown and a grimace, even after Liara injected the spray into her neck. "What do you mean?"

"After all that we've been through separately, will we still work?" Liara cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. "What if this has changed us beyond reparation?"

With a slight cry escaping her lips as Liara started to put a stabilising splint on her arm, Miranda closed her eyes and drew in shallow, rapid breaths. "Liara, my arm hurts like hell, David is dead and Hannah has thrown away her career…so the two of you had better fucking work." Her breathing gradually evened out as the painkillers finally kicked in. She half-opened her eyes and smiled at Liara in blissful, drugged relief. "Sorry, that was the pain talking. In all seriousness, you two will be fine. You're like…star-crossed lovers, meant to be together no matter what. Trust me, you're going to live happily ever after with gorgeous blue children…and a puppy. Promise me you'll get a puppy?"

"And that was the drugs talking," Liara observed pointedly. However she couldn't help but let Miranda's enthusiasm – real or enforced - banish her doubts. When she looked over her shoulder at Evan again, a relieved smile finally curled the corners of her lips. "We will be fine."


	14. Touch has a Memory

**Chapter Fourteen**  
**Touch has a Memory  
**

**Athabasca Facility, Alberta**

The clenched fists at her sides were her sole means of releasing the white-hot anger that flowed through her veins. It was a pitiful substitute for the real tonic – a satisfaction that came only from hearing the screams of the dying in her ears and the exquisite warmth of blood against her skin. Captain Cristiane Alves felt nothing as she paused beside the body of a young marine lying on his back in the mud. She stared down at him, noting in a clinical fashion how his eyes remained open in one last look of terror before he died. Cause of death was obvious – his throat had been ripped out. Her gaze barely lingered before she continued to scan the scene. Other marines lay where they had fallen, limp bodies all bearing evidence of cause of death. Some had simply been gunned down by weapons fire, others bore the scorched and blackened skin left by a tech attack, and several had haemorrhaged from the inside out – killed instantly by a biotic explosion.

The loss of life meant nothing to her. She had stood on the field of battle surrounded by scores of dead marines and felt even less emotion. At Torfan her company had been reduced to an embittered handful of survivors. Mewling fools had lamented the loss of those who had died, while she had rejoiced in the victory. The cost was nothing, victory was everything.

Alves scowled. This was nothing short of a colossal failure. Almost two dozen marines were dead and an extremely dangerous, classified asset had managed to escape Alliance custody due to a series of colossal fuck-ups. She glanced down at the dead marine again and lashed out with her boot, slamming it into the useless sack of meat responsible for Shepard's escape. The scowl was still fixed on her face as she turned and saw Fleet Admiral Kessler standing near the ruined Kodiak. Although she had no desire to be on the receiving end of another of his tirades, she trudged across the clearing to join him. Kessler did not acknowledge her presence immediately. Alves paused at the shuttle's ruined aperture, the twisted door was lying several metres away after having been ripped from its mountings. The body of Dr Naomi Stone lay propped up against the far bulkhead. A single gunshot wound to her forehead had created a grizzly halo of blood behind her. The Captain merely sneered. A large part of their failure here could be blamed on the woman's incompetence. Stone was responsible for bringing Shepard out of her coma, and for allowing a sympathiser like Bryan Heller to gain access to her. Other rumours had leaked out of the facility - rumours that hinted at Stone's proclivities when it came to Shepard. Alves was unimpressed. Not only had Dr Stone been incompetent, she also had appalling taste in women.

"That should have been Shepard," Alves commented, as much for her own benefit as Kessler's. She turned away from Stone's body and looked across to her superior. "If someone had the foresight to put a bullet to her head when she was lying in that tunnel, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"I take it you have very little admiration for the woman?" Kessler eventually asked. "Most would consider her a hero."

Alves snorted. "What has she ever done to deserve that accolade? She grew up cosseted and soft in the comforts of space stations and ships. People referred to her as a survivor after Akuze, but it was cowardice that saved her life. She was put forward as Spectre solely because the Alliance wanted someone who would be malleable, predictable. Instead she ended up being the Council's bitch. I lost almost fifty percent of my crew saving the _Destiny Ascension_ during the Battle of the Citadel on her orders. She traded human lives for the Council. I would have let them all die."

_I was the survivor_, Alves thought bitterly. She had been sixteen when the Batarian attack on Mindoir had ripped apart her entire world. Her eyes narrowed as the memories flooded back. It was instinctive, the images were etched into her consciousness by the lingering trauma and her own promise to herself to never forget what had happened to her community, to her family. Alves remembered the lengths she went to in order to survive. Even though her experiences had created a hardened shell, she still had to suppress a shiver as she remembered feigning unconsciousness beneath the rutting body of a Batarian soldier - biding her time until he shuddered and collapsed against her so she could stab him in the neck with his own knife. _I clawed my way through hell until the marines found me. I was the survivor and yet they named her 'Spectre_.' Although she had only ever met the famous Shepard on several, brief occasions, Alves knew the woman intimately - as though they had been sisters. In a way they were. They were soldiers cast from the same mould at birth and then separated by happenstance, shaped throughout the course of their lives by very different experiences.

She eventually realised that Kessler was staring at her with an amused expression on his face while she had been lost in her own thoughts. She had already said enough. Alves fixed a blank expression on her face as she returned to her customary demeanour.

"We need to track Shepard down and eliminate her," Alves said decisively. "I will take command-"

"Your enthusiasm is commendable, Captain," Kessler interrupted her. "Without underestimating her, Shepard is no longer a priority. I need you to return to Australia. The Athabasca facility will be decommissioned, and all personnel transferred to the Blackheath facility."

Alves had to suppress her surprise. "You're giving final authorisation to the Blackheath? I thought that results to date have been substandard at best? Given that the bulk of the research data was lost during the war, it seems unlikely that she will be successful-"

"We have not supported the project adequately." Kessler cut Alves short for a second time and she was forced to clench her jaw shut. "You will see that the good doctor has all the resources and support she needs."

"And test subjects?" Alves asked, keeping her tone respectful despite her irritation. "I was under the impression that she was lobbying for Shepard to be brought into the program, against Stone's wishes."

Kessler shook his head. "Shepard was always too unstable for the Blackheath Project. No, we will need another key subject once the initial tests have been completed. The procedure is currently still fatal, but the Doctor has promised that results are only months away. I'm sure that the two of you will be able to find an acceptable compromise in that time."

A small smile creased Alves' face. It even went as far as reaching her dark eyes. As Kessler moved away, complaining about the lingering smell, she folded her arms across her chest. "I have the perfect candidate in mind," she told herself.

* * *

**Melbourne, Australia**

The one advantage to being bored beyond belief while the _Normandy_ was laid up in port was currently sitting in front of Specialist Sam Traynor – fresh food. With an almost orgasmic sigh, she cut into the lone fried egg perched delicately atop a slice of toast and watched as the golden yolk oozed out. Her patience lasted for only a few more seconds before she tucked into her breakfast, sighing again as her jaw worked around the glorious mouthful.

"Damn that shit was good," newly promoted Corporal Sarah Campbell gave voice to her feelings on the matter as she sopped up the last remnants of her own breakfast with a piece of bread.

"Kinda wish there was more than one each," Steve Cortez remarked from the opposite side of the table. His egg was long gone and he was onto his fifth slice of toast. "Are you sure you're going to eat that, Traynor?"

"Yes, every bite!" Sam protested. "I'm savouring it."

She noticed Campbell casting an envious sidelong glance at her plate and propped her elbows up on the table to create a barricade. With a grin, Campbell turned her attention to her coffee and the small cluster of crewmembers sitting at the other end of the Normandy's mess table.

"Look at them," Campbell said quietly as she nodded toward the new crewmembers. "Do you think they even appreciate that they're serving on _the_ _Normandy,_ sitting at the same table where Commander Shepard herself sat."

Sam frowned. "I don't recall Shepard ever sitting here."

"No, she didn't eat," Cortez agreed matter-of-factly. Tearing off a hunk of toast with his teeth, he joined Campbell in appraising the four replacements – just some of the new faces that had been appearing on the _Normandy_ over the past few days. "Maybe we should have invited them to sit with us, get to know them?"

"Who appointed you the head of the social committee?" Campbell demanded, raising her eyebrows. "Hell, look at those two on the end – they've still got down on their cheeks. How old are they? Eighteen?"

Even though she was trying to concentrate on her food, Sam followed Campbell's gaze and studied the two young men out of the corner of her eye. Hwang and Swift, both marine privates, did indeed appear young enough to make her feel like a grandmother. Both wore matching studious expressions beneath their equally matching close-cropped haircuts. Although both had graduated boot with outstanding marks, the _Normandy_ was still their first posting.

"Give 'em a chance, Corp," Cortez argued. "Besides, Petrova and Fleeting are both seasoned vets."

Although Cortez was trying to ensure that his voice remained low, Lieutenant Fleeting happened to glance up at the moment that all three of the old _Normandy_ hands were staring at him. Sam quickly returned to her egg and shovelled another forkful into her mouth. She did feel guilty that she had chosen to sit with Cortez and Campbell over the new crewmembers, but the truth was that she found the prospect daunting to say the least. When faced with the new crewmembers, her introductory sentence had died on her lips as she retreated to the safety of people she actually knew. Besides, if she was being completely honest with herself, she did not think that she would be able to speak in the presence of Gunnery Sergeant Petrova. The blonde marine wasn't conventionally beautiful, but she was striking…and so straight it almost ached to even stare at her. Suddenly Sam didn't seem quite so hungry, she glanced up at Cortez to offer him the rest of her egg, but found him doing his best not to get caught staring at Fleeting out of the corner of his eye. Sam's eyes widened when she recognised the shuttle pilot's furtive glances for what they were.

Cortez glanced up and saw Sam staring at him. "What?" he demanded.

"He's not bad – if you like your men tall, dark and handsome," Sam commented, giving the new marine another glance. Although she wasn't exactly the best judge when it came to good-looking men, she suspected that Fleeting's polished dark skin and chiselled good looks might make him an attractive example of the male sex.

The usually reserved Lieutenant had to stifle a grin. For once he did not try to steer the conversation away from his love life. "Who doesn't?"

"Traynor doesn't," Campbell added with a smirk.

"Shut up," Sam muttered. Although the comment was made good-humouredly, she couldn't help but dwell on the fact that the _Normandy_ had spent almost a week in port and she still hadn't managed to have a decent conversation with a woman let alone get laid. _You lied about that line of women, Lucy Park_, Sam thought, absently wondering if Joker had managed to get his hands on a copy of _Asari Confessions 7: Feeling Blue_. By all accounts, it was the best in the series.

All three of them looked up when a shadow fell across the table. Sam met the challenging stare of another new _Normandy_ crewmember, Lieutenant Craig Kessler, as he walked – or rather swaggered – past the mess table. Although Sam had only exchanged a very brief greeting with the second of _Normandy's_ two new Lieutenants, Kessler had already managed to both piss her off and make her skin crawl. She'd overheard him make a disparaging remark to Hwang and Swift about the proliferation of other races that had been a part of the ship's crew at one time or another. His comment that the _Normandy_ ought to have been fumigated following the departure of the last non-human left the new marines sniggering and Sam's cheeks burning with anger. It was already bad enough that she missed Tali and Garrus without having to listen to the new Lieutenant's bullshit.

"That guy's a twat," Sam muttered when Kessler turned away to speak to Mess Sergeant Gardner.

"I thought he was our new XO," Campbell added. "Thank goodness he's not. I thought we'd have one by now – makes you wonder who they'll send us."

"Why break with tradition - the XO will probably be another woman," Cortez suggested with a wink.

Sam stifled a small groan. "Oh god, what if it is. What if she's hot?" Her food sat heavily in her stomach as she remembered her last bout of flirting with a superior officer. She'd made a fool of herself fawning after Shepard, she did not want to take the same route again. She pushed her plate across to Campbell. "Damn you Cortez. The rest of the egg is yours if you want it, Sarah. I'm going to be late for my shift."

"Oh hell yeah!" Campbell clapped her hands together, earning stares from the other end of the table and an envious glance from Cortez.

With a good proportion of the _Normandy's_ crew on shore leave, the CIC was subdued. Sam made her way through into the War Room, taking her time to enjoy the solitude while it lasted. It gave her the opportunity to finish the last adjustments on the new cabling system. While the refit crew had done most of the work, it had not been finished to Sam's exacting standards. She was sure that the time lag between ship-to-shore communications could be improved by as much as twenty-five percent. Even though the lag was already barely discernible, Sam knew it was there. Besides, it was actual physical work instead of standing at her console and she desperately needed something to keep herself busy. There had still been no word from Horizon regarding her parent's fate. Every day she waited for a miraculous message informing her that they had been spared the fate suffered by most of the colonists, but so far there had been nothing. With the necessary tools in hand, Sam slipped onto her back beneath the comms server. She was rewarded with a cool, blissful silence as she commenced the work. Sam was so content that a small grin even crossed her face.

"Can I be of assistance, Sam?"

If it had been any voice other than EDI's velvet tone, the interruption might have grated. As it was, her grin merely widened. Her good mood had her feeling a little playful. "Just keep talking, EDI," Sam said in slow, almost libidinous drawl. "Just keep talking."

"You have not specified a topic," EDI pointed out unhelpfully.

Sam laughed. The sound was loud in the cramped space, serving to remind her that she needed to do it more often. "Why don't you specify a topic, EDI?" she suggested.

A lengthy pause followed. Sam could easily imagine EDI's physical body cocking her head to one side as her processors pondered the most appropriate answer for the weighty question. "A significant number of new crewmembers have joined the _Normandy,_" EDI eventually said, her tone unwavering. "Can you tell me how their presence…makes you feel?"

"Sad," was Sam's automatic response. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she reconsidered the response. "I suppose it's natural. There are changes in any crew, but I really felt as though the _Normandy_ was a family – granted an extremely dysfunctional one, but a family all the same. The ship doesn't feel right without Tali and Garrus…bloody hell, I even miss Miranda Lawson sneaking up behind me."

"Agreed." EDI's addition was terse, but her subsequent silence indicated that she was considering a lengthier reply. "Tali`Zorah was an efficient engineer and I appreciated Garrus Vakarian's attention to detail. I find myself measuring the performance of the new crewmembers against their standards. Currently, all fall short and I find it…less than satisfactory."

"We just need time to adjust," Sam reasoned. "Time to get to know everyone…or at least their names."

"My facial recognition software negates that difficulty," EDI added. "Additionally, I have instant access to the service records of all past and present _Normandy_ personnel."

Sam grinned as she continued to work. "Now we're talking. What juicy secrets can you share?"

"You do not have clearance to access those records, Specialist Traynor," EDI replied formally.

"You were the one that brought it up," Sam snorted. "I thought we were supposed to be friends?"

Unfortunately the A.I. was not persuaded by her protest. "We are friends, but that does not alter the fact that you do not have the requisite clearance."

"Fine, as a personal drinking buddy of the Commander, I'll just get my information from elsewhere."

"It is highly unlikely that Commander Williams would break protocol in such a fashion," EDI pointed out.

"I was joking!" Sam insisted. Apparently EDI still had some steep learning curves ahead of her before she was able to fully appreciate even her unsophisticated sense of humour. "I'll just get to know the crew the old-fashioned way. Contrary to popular belief, I am actually capable of having a conversation with someone."

With her head and most of her torso tucked beneath the console as she worked, Sam's field of view was limited. She heard the distinctive sounds of approaching footsteps, but reasoned that whoever it was would either say hello or continue about their own business. However the footsteps paused close by and there was a protracted period of silence before Sam sensed that someone was kneeling by her legs. At the moment that she felt a hand touch the inside of thigh, just above her knee, her head jerked upwards and slammed into the hard surface above her head.

"Bugger!" she yelped, scooting out from beneath the console. She was rubbing her smarting forehead whilst she met the grinning face of Lieutenant Kessler.

"Specialist Traynor I believe?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked upward in what he probably thought was a jaunty manner. The dark-haired young man was hunkered down beside the console, quite unapologetic for his method of attracting her attention.

"Can I help you, sir?" Sam asked irritably.

"Actually you can, I was hoping I might be able to trouble you for a tour of the _Normandy_?" he asked expectantly.

Sam frowned. "EDI is quite capable of giving you a tour, and she can explain the ship's functions far more effectively that I can." Her tone bordered on insubordination, but her skin was still crawling as a result of Kessler's inappropriate touch. He remained unnervingly close.

"I would prefer the body to accompany the attractive voice," Kessler countered. "Not to mention the fact that an unshackled A.I gives me the creeps. How the hell has this crew managed to work alongside it?"

_There are times when I wish EDI's physical self was still around...and that she was a murdering psycho_, Sam thought as she regarded Kessler with a thoroughly unimpressed stare. "EDI is a valued member of the crew," she replied diplomatically.

Kessler ignored her comment. "My tour, _Specialist _Traynor?"

"Yes sir," Sam replied awkwardly. Somehow she managed to rise on her shaky legs without compromising what little distance there was between herself and the Lieutenant – even as he also rose to his feet. When he took a step forward, she responded by shuffling backwards. Her thighs pressed up against the console she had been working beneath. Her earlier good mood felt like a distant memory as Kessler placed his hands on the top of the console, one each on either side of her body.

A sudden, cold voice interrupted the silence. "Is there a problem here, Lieutenant?"

Sam fought down her rising panic as she looked over Kessler's shoulder to see Ashley Williams standing a few metres away, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes narrowed. Under any other circumstances, Sam would have pitied the individual on the receiving end of the stare, but she was too shaken up to even feel a measure of satisfaction. As soon as Kessler released her from the barrier created by his arms, she darted several steps away, and propped herself up against another console. It was only then that she realised her breath was coming in small, panicked gasps. _Get a bloody grip, Sam_, she urged herself.

Meanwhile the Lieutenant turned to regard his new commanding officer with a casual grin on his face. "None whatsoever, ma'am. I was just getting to know Specialist Traynor. She offered me a tour of the _Normandy _to help familiarise myself with the layout."

"You want to familiarise yourself with the layout of the _Normandy_? Look at a schematic," Ashley informed him in a taut tone. "But in your case I wouldn't bother. Pack your bags, Lieutenant, you've been reassigned."

When Kessler's cocky expression finally slid from him face in response to the Commander's announcement, Sam exhaled slowly and deeply with unbridled relief. She would not have to spend every hour of the day trying to avoid the Lieutenant.

"I haven't received a change of orders." Despite his uncertainty, Kessler's arrogance remained. "Where is my new posting?"

Ashley shrugged. "I don't give a fuck, Lieutenant - anywhere but the _Normandy_."

He bristled almost immediately. Forgetting about Sam, he crossed the distance separating him from Ashley in three angry strides. "I don't think you fully understand the implications of what you're doing, Commander Williams," he hissed in a dangerous voice.

"Seriously?" Ashley asked with feigned incredulity. "You're actually playing that card?" She closed the remainder of the distance between herself and the red-faced marine – to the point where she was almost stepping on his toes. "Wherever you come from, your family...whoever the hell your father is, Lieutenant _Kessler_, it doesn't mean a damn to me. All I care about is whether you're the type of soldier I want at my side when everything goes tits up. I have already decided that you are not one of those. Now you'll pack your bags and get the hell off my ship. Am I understood?"

For several moments Kessler's cheeks bulged as he obviously fought to keep from expressing his true feelings on the matter. Eventually he straightened and gave his former commanding officer a curt nod. "Yes ma'am."

Ashley did not wait for Kessler to leave the War Room before turning her attention to Sam. The Specialist was determinedly trying to appear composed even though her face was ashen. Although Ash was inwardly stricken at what had obviously happened, she had no idea as to the best course of action. While she wanted to wrap her arms around the younger women, even for a brief moment, she knew that would not be the appropriate course of action. She felt stifled as she folded her arms across her chest instead.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Traynor eventually said. She relinquished her grip on the console and straightened, tilting her chin up an inch. "I ought to have handled myself better."

"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for," Ashley replied in a fierce voice. She uncrossed her arms and closed the distance between them. Instead of the embrace, she settled for resting a firm hand on Sam's shoulder. She sighed regretfully. "I ought to have had the balls to stand up to the brass – then this would not have happened in the first place."

"Ma'am?" Traynor asked with a frown marring her brow.

"I'm a fucking Spectre, Sam," Ashley said, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I supposedly have the authority to choose my own missions, and have veto over all crew appointments, but instead it's nothing but a hollow title. The Alliance has me on a string, dancing to their fucking tune. I don't give a shit if that man's father is the bloody Fleet Admiral, if it were up to me he would never have set foot on board the _Normandy_."

Sam ducked her head, thoroughly embarrassed that she had been the catalyst of Ashley's conflict. "Perhaps it was a misunderstanding-"

"There have been several accusations against the Lieutenant," Ashley interrupted in a level voice. "All carefully covered up of course." When she saw the expression of surprise on Sam's face, she expanded. "It may come as a shock, but I can push paper with the best of them when it's called for. I've been over every line of the crew manifest, every sailor's background, and between the lines. I'm not shipping out without knowing the men and women under my command. I'm just grateful that EDI saw fit to notify me before things got further out of hand. So no, Sam, there was no misunderstanding."

"Thanks, EDI," Sam said, tilting her head upwards as though she could actually see the AI somewhere.

"The Lieutenant was out of line, Sam," EDI replied. "If I still possessed my physical form things may have become...messy."

Sam actually managed a grin in response. "That I would have paid to see."

Quiet footsteps interrupted any further conversation. Before she turned around, Ashley saw Sam grow even paler as she stared at something behind her. Ashley spun to see an unfamiliar, dark-haired sailor approach with a nervous expression on his face. He had obviously run into Kessler during his angry exit and he was decidedly unsure of himself.

"Is this a fucking bus station? Who the hell are you?" Ashley demanded.

He snapped into a smart salute. "Ma'am, Lieutenant-Commander Leon Grenier, ma'am...um, I'm the _Normandy's_ new XO. Pleased to meet you." Grenier's lips twitched as though he wasn't sure whether to smile or not. He looked past Ashley to Sam. "Nice to see you again, Specialist Traynor."

Ashley raised her eyebrows in surprise. She turned to Sam. "You've met?"

"Yes, we have," Sam replied, doing her best not to fall to pieces. "Although one of us has recently been promoted...and I don't mean the hardworking Comms Specialist who is about the only crewmember not to have received a bloody promotion."

Without saying anything, Ashley gave Sam a level stare, silently asking her opinion of the newcomer. Although Sam was desperate that their aborted kiss not become public knowledge, she had to admit that her impression of Leon had been nothing but good up until the point where he tried to plant one on her. He had been almost as mortified as she had by his mistake. She responded to Ashley with an almost imperceptible nod. The Commander turned to regard her new XO but her face did not betray her own thoughts on the matter.

"Stow your things, LC," she ordered. "Briefing in my quarters in ten minutes."

"Yes, Commander Williams," Grenier replied earnestly.

She looked to Sam before she turned to leave, ascertaining whether she was alright one more time. Already anxious to forget the whole incident with Kessler, the Specialist nodded quickly.

As Ashley walked on ahead, Grenier turned to Sam with an anxious expression on his face. "She doesn't like me does she?" he asked as soon as his new commanding officer was out of ear shot.

"You're still on the ship," Sam said with a shrug as she followed Ashley. Although she had not finished her task, she could not face remaining alone in the War Room after what had happened. "She likes you well enough."

"I don't mean to pry, but is everything okay?" Leon asked nervously as he jogged to catch up. "You just look a little pale."

"Huh?" Sam realised he was staring at her expectantly. She responded with a taut nod. "I just...I'm fine, definitely fine."

Leon sighed. "I'm really sorry about this. When we met, my posting hadn't come through...and of course you never mentioned that the ship you served on was the goddamn _Normandy _itself."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't exactly think I would be seeing you again," Sam muttered.

"You have my word that I won't tell a soul about the kiss," Leon promised.

Sam sighed and stopped in her tracks. "You just did."

"What do you mean?"

"EDI?" Sam called out. She tapped her foot impatiently until the AI responded.

"Yes, Sam?"

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally overhaul your voice profile and make you sound like a grumpy old man." _Although that would be punishing two of us_.

"I cannot breathe, Sam," EDI responded. "But if you intended to enforce my silence on this matter, then you have been successful. I will not share your secret, not even with Jeff."

When Sam turned her attention back to the _Normandy's_ new XO, she found him looking decidedly like a fish out of water. "What just happened?" he asked.

"Meet EDI, the _Normandy's _AI. EDI, this is Lieutenant-Commander Grenier."

"The _Normandy_ is a hell of a ship, Specialist," Leon shook his head in disbelief. When he'd finished trying to process this first piece of information, he flashed Sam a quick smile. "I have no idea where the hell I'm going. Would you be able to show me to my quarters?"

Sam paused, unable to shake her earlier encounter, but eventually she responded with a tentative nod. She already knew Leon well enough to know that he was no Kessler. Her skin started to crawl again. Suddenly a shower seemed like the most desirable thing in the world.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Leon said as they resumed walking.

"You've already apologised-"

"Not for the stupid kiss." Leon shook his head quickly. "I'm sorry for not being a hot female XO. Something tells me that you were probably hanging out for one...or perhaps I overhead someone whispering when I came on board."

Sam shook her head, suddenly realising the world of trouble she would have been in had the LC's words been true. "No sir, I think it's probably better this way."

* * *

**Lanzhou, China**

The reflection stared back at her – an inhuman, monstrous visage that seemed to be the very embodiment of lust. Her eyes were glowing pools of orange reaper tech that seemed to burn into her brain the longer she stared. There were elements of the face she recognised as her own – her nose, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the curve of her lips – however when top lip peeled upward into a sneer, she almost lost that recognition altogether. Her own skin was almost chalk-white. It appeared dry and flaky, especially around where it had been split open by the hideous scars criss-crossing her face. The reaper tech was trying to force its way through her skin, creating an external picture to match the twisted creature within.

Shepard's entire body felt as though it was burning from the inside out - an inferno stemming from her core, seeking something to slake its rampage before she was consumed completely. When she tore her gaze away from the mirror she lowered her head to focus on the cause of her desire. Liara was spread out beneath her, eyes glistening and mouth slightly parted with what Shepard interpreted to be a need of her own. She lowered her lips to Liara's neck, both her lips and the breath that emerged from her mouth were hot. Liara's hands went to her chest, not caressing but as a means of pushing, trying to force her to break the contact. Shepard uttered a growl of irritation and seized both hands in her own so she could pin them above Liara's head, out of the way. With her artificial hand it was almost effortless to keep both restrained, it freed up the other to tug at the waistband of Liara's pants, driving down into the warmth between her legs.

"Evan…please!"

She grinned as her mind interpreted the words the way she wanted to hear them. Liara was begging for this, she needed it just as much as Shepard herself did.

Her eyes opened to darkness. There was a sharp cry of horror on her lips when she realised what she had been trying to do to Liara. Her stomach was churning with revulsion to the point where she thought she might vomit. The intense heat was gone, replaced instead by a chill, but her breath still came in heated gasps.

When she realised that she was alone in bed, Shepard tried to calm her racing heartbeat. It had been nothing more than a dream. _No_, she insisted. _A nightmare of the worst kind_. Liara was not trapped beneath her body as she tried to- _I've never done that to Liara, would never…_Her heart rate started to climb to the point where she was hyperventilating.

A tiny, soft light winked on beside the bed. Liara's compassionate expression was illuminated. Her bondmate stood at her bedside with a concerned expression on her tired face. "Evan, you were only dreaming," Liara whispered tenderly. "You need to relax…breathe normally." She extended her hand to touch Shepard's face.

At the first gentle touch of Liara's fingers, Shepard instinctively jerked her head away. "Don't touch me!"

The protest emerged louder and harsher than she had intended, a guttural shout that caused her bondmate to withdraw her hand in shocked surprise. Repulsed by herself and her proximity to Liara, Shepard rolled over and attempted to put some distance between them. Her escape was hampered by the tubes in her arm and her own weakened body acting against her. The muscles in her arms and legs would simply not cooperate as she tried to extricate her body from the bed clothes and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

"Evan?" Liara's voice very quickly took panicked element. Her hand remained outstretched, but she hesitated as though she was fearful to reach toward a burning flame. She forced herself to remain calm but her main concern was her bondmate falling and injuring herself further. Miranda Lawson had been in the bed next to Shepard, but she had left a few minutes earlier to take a shower. Although her instincts were screaming at her to fold Shepard into her arms, she forced herself to take a step away from the bed and hold up her hands as though in surrender. "I am not trying to touch you, but you need to look at me and tell me what is wrong so I can help you."

Shepard had finally given up trying to force herself out of the bed. She was lying on her side amidst a tangle of bed sheets and tubes, her shoulders still rising and falling much too rapidly. "I just need you to leave me alone, Liara," Shepard whispered in a broken voice. It was the last thing she wanted for either of them, but it was all she could do to maintain her own sanity. "I'm sorry…I-I…please, just leave."

"If that is what you want." Liara was grateful that Shepard was facing in the opposite direction so she could not see the hot tears falling down her cheeks. "But if you decide you need me, I will not be far."

The soft sounds of Liara's footsteps sounded on the floor but Shepard could not bring herself to roll over. The old-fashioned door creaked as it swung on actual hinges. "I need you, Liara," she whispered. The door softly closed and she was left alone.

Liara managed only a few steps from the room before she stopped in her tracks and lost her battle with tears. To keep from falling, she pressed her back up against the wall behind her prior to burying her head in her hands. As she descended into sobs, she felt the cruel irony of the situation weigh down on her. The emptiness she had felt without her bondmate had almost eaten away at her. Now that Shepard was safe, that emptiness was supposed to be gone. Instead it remained, gnawing at the pit of her stomach. The fears she had shared with Miranda in the shuttle returned. She had only brief memories, images and sensations of what Shepard had been through since the end of the war. While David's experience had been crystal clear, Liara knew nothing of what Shepard had suffered in captivity other than the flashes of emotional contact they had shared through their bond. Her speculations were all she had – and her mind ran rampant with fears of tests, torture, and worse. Her anger mixed with her grief at the thought of what her bondmate might have been through.

"Woah, kid. You might want to tone down the biotics while you're indoors. At least amongst friendlies anyway."

_Goddess_. Liara straightened and extinguished the aura around her body that she had inadvertently summoned. She had not even realised that she had lost control to such an extent. Mack was approaching cautiously, his hands raised as though she might be dangerous.

Liara shook her head to dispel his fears. "I am sorry." She could not however stop the tears.

He stopped within arm's reach with a concerned expression on his face. "I thought we went through all of this so you wouldn't have to cry anymore?" he asked her gently. "As least not these sort of tears."

"I do not know how to help her, Mack," Liara admitted. "What if I cannot?"

"I guess I don't need to ask how she is doing," he sighed.

Liara tilted her head back and rolled her aching shoulders in an effort to find some sort of release. "She is hurting."

"I don't want to tell you how to talk to your own bondmate, but you should know you can't just slap medigel on some wounds. They take time to heal...patience," Mack explained.

"But...she will not even let me touch her," Liara replied in a broken voice.

Mack shrugged. "Then don't touch her. Give her some space, sit with her, talk to her. There are dozens of ways to let her know that you're here for her without touching her. I know how important touch is, and it will come in time, but right now you've got to move at her pace, not yours."

The sniff that followed was exceptionally undignified. Liara stared at the human through watery eyes as she wiped her nose on the only available surface – her sleeve. "You sound like a Matriarch."

The New Zealander grinned. "It's nothing more than the wisdom learned from decades of pissing women off, kid." He reached out and cupped her cheek. For just a moment, Liara swore that she could see a veil pass in front of his eyes as he stared at her. He let his hand fall and the moment passed. "Now go and get some sleep, before you fall over. Hannah - I mean, Ms Shepard – and I, will keep watch."

* * *

A sudden noise caused Shepard's eyes to open with a start. The groggy edge to her awareness indicated that she had probably drifted back to sleep soon after Liara had left. There were soft footsteps on the other side of the room, but they were too soft to belong to someone wearing boots. She remained almost motionless, feigning sleep, as she listened to the almost imperceptible sounds of cloth against flesh. A few moments later, interspersed with the slightly rapid padding of feet, Shepard heard a series of expletives all uttered in a familiar twang.

"Of all the fucking incompetent…fuck, does anyone around here actually have a medical degree?"

It was unmistakably Miranda Lawson. Shepard rolled over to find the raven-haired woman naked from the waist up, struggling one-handed with the clasp on her bra. Although her ruined arm had been treated and the wounds were hidden within a carbon fibre cast that immobilised it in a slight bend, it apparently made dressing herself extremely difficult.

"Having trouble?" Shepard asked quietly, slowly rising into a sit. With her earlier panic gone, she found that movement came a little easier.

"Fuck!" Miranda swore, losing her hold on the bra altogether. As she turned and glared at Shepard, she placed her good arm across her breasts. She was left with just a towel wrapped around her waist.

Unable to even feign embarrassment, Shepard made no move to turn away. The ghastly pallor Miranda had worn in the shuttle was gone, replaced by alabaster perfection marred only by an errant bruise on her left temple and the contraption on her arm.

"You know I've seen everything before," Shepard remarked in a deliberately bland voice.

"That was a long time ago," Miranda muttered, thoroughly unimpressed by her audience.

Uninterested in baiting Miranda, Shepard was merely looking for an excuse to get out of bed. While Miranda turned her back in an effort to preserve some semblance of modesty, she managed to finally swing her legs over the side of the bed. It was low enough to the floor for the short drop to cause only a slight jarring impact. The walk across the room to Miranda's side resembled a drunken stumble, but her legs worked well enough. She tested her injured shoulder and found it both sore and stiff, but nothing she couldn't deal with. Without a word, she took both ends of the clasp from Miranda and smoothly attached them. There was a fresh vest lying on Miranda's neatly made bed which she retrieved before using a gentle touch to turn the other woman around.

"Shepard," Miranda protested in an irritated voice.

"Shut-up and stand still before I yank your arm," Shepard said unsympathetically as she rucked the vest up so she could draw it over the cast. Miranda remained still, but let her feelings on the subject be known with a violent huff of air.

Miranda's silence continued through the indignity of being helped into a pair of underwear by her ex-lover. When Shepard finished helping with the sweatpants and hoodie she saw that her creamy cheeks carried more than a hint of red. It disappeared rapidly, especially as Miranda turned the tables on Shepard – casting a physician's eye over her wasted body, most of which was visible beneath the thin gown she wore.

"How do I look?" Shepard asked quietly. She felt like shit, but that had nothing to do with her physical wounds.

The response was carefully considered. "Different," Miranda eventually offered.

Although she had asked the question, she was suddenly self-conscious beneath the other woman's scrutiny. She had neither desire nor opportunity to examine herself in a mirror following her escape, but she already knew that was not the same woman that Miranda had rebuilt from a charred corpse on Lazarus Station. Her body had been refashioned yet again. If it were possible, Shepard felt even less human that she had after waking on an ice cold slab to the sound of Miranda's voice and blaring sirens. She was also painfully aware of her artificial hand hanging at her side when it became obvious that Miranda was staring at it. Before she could make a move, Miranda stepped forward and picked it up in her good hand

"It looks as though someone…or something did a better job of putting you back together than I did," she observed in an odd voice. Not noticing Shepard's discomfort, her analytical mind took over as she ran her fingers over the white surface, prodding with her thumb and lifting it up for a closer inspection. "Somehow the Catalyst's substance has integrated with your nervous system, your muscular and skeletal structure-" She stopped when she saw Shepard wince. "Sorry, Shepard."

"No, I need to get over it," Shepard said tersely. "It's a hand, it works."

However, when Miranda let go, she consciously tucked the hand out of sight behind her back and turned her head. In trying to banish the damn hand from her thoughts, dozens of others flooded in to replace it. Foremost amongst them were the nightmarish accusations made by Naomi Stone. She could all too clearly picture the hate in blonde woman's eyes as she pressed down on her chest, pinning her half-naked body to the ice cold deck of the Kodiak. Venom dripped from her every word. The memory made Shepard's skin crawl. Shepard closed her burning eyes in an effort to keep from crying. _I am different_, she thought, wondering what the hell kind of person had replaced the marine she remembered. When she opened her eyes, she found Miranda watching her closely, as though she expected her to collapse at any moment. _Shit, I must look like utter crap. _

Shepard tried pacing to combat the ache in the pit of her stomach but her sole achievement was to tire herself out. Although she had been standing for only a few minutes, she needed to return to the bed to sit down. She would not allow herself to lie back down like an invalid, instead she stubbornly chose to lean against the edge to alleviate some of the weight from her legs.

"Liara's asleep in the next room," Miranda mentioned. "Shall I wake her?"

Shepard shook her head quickly. She remembered seeing dark circles beneath the asari's eyes. "No, let her sleep. She looked exhausted." _And I'm not ready to see her_. "Talk to me, Miranda."

The other woman frowned as she moved to sit opposite Shepard. "About what?"

"Anything…everything, please, just talk."

Miranda shifted nervously. She tried to cross her arms over her chest before she remembered that one arm was out of action. Unused to talking simply for the sake of it, she fumbled for a means to start. "So much has happened since you...well, since everything." Although the situation with the Alliance was undoubtedly their most important concern, she did not need to tell Shepard how far they fallen, nor how critical the situation was. "Ash and I...we're still together – dating, girlfriends..." The only person Miranda ever really discussed Ash with was Ash and she discovered that conventional terminology did not sit right with what they had become. She'd never actually been on a date with the marine, and 'girlfriend' sounded too ephemeral to properly describe their relationship. She changed the subject. "I did meet Ash's sisters, two of them at least…and I learned how to play scrabble." Miranda could have smiled at the memory. Her triple word score, Lynn's jealousy and Abby's resulting laugh. It had only been a few days earlier in reality, but it felt years ago. "It was almost painful at first, trying to be a part of something I didn't understand, but I think they actually liked me…and I liked them."

"I don't know what scrabble is, but it sounds painful," Shepard replied, feeling lighter already.

"I assure you it's not." Miranda actually did smile. She still felt slightly giddy with the amount of painkillers in her system and talking about Ash had suddenly caused her heart to flutter in an irritating fashion. "And I know this is going to be a little hard for you to process…but I enlisted. I do believe I beat your score at OCS by a few dozen points. Although, of course, that was before I learned that it was the Alliance who was keeping you prisoner. Somehow being a commissioned officer doesn't mean what it used to."

Shepard processed what Miranda had just said and her mouth parted slightly. "Let me get this straight. Miranda Lawson is an officer in the Alliance Navy?"

"Why is that so difficult for you to believe?" Miranda demanded indignantly.

In response, Shepard spluttered uselessly for a few moments. "It's just that you...taking orders and being part of a team? Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really play well with others."

"It's a changed world, Shepard," Miranda replied in an honest, careful voice. "Nothing makes sense anymore. I thought that joining the Alliance would give me a chance to make a difference, but now I find myself playing for the wrong side."

Shepard knew that she ought to be able to summon some sort of anger in response to what had become of the Alliance, but instead there was only indifference. She was suddenly extremely tired. It felt as though she could close her eyes and fall asleep in seconds. _Haven't I slept long enough already?_ she asked herself. However Miranda was sitting opposite her with an expectant expression on her face. Shepard had to stifle the weary sigh she felt building.

"You're not playing for the wrong side, Miranda," she said softly, her head sagging forward. "The Alliance has lost its way. It needs soldiers like you...like Ash. Please tell me they at least gave her command of the _Normandy_?"

"Yes, they did." Miranda looked down at her hands. "Ash misses you. I couldn't tell her about this…all of this. She still doesn't know about you – that you're alive."

"I miss her too." The exhaustion pressed down on Shepard's shoulders. "But at the moment, I think the fewer people that know about me, the better." Shepard sounded surer of herself than she felt. _Then no one will know how fucked up I am._

Miranda cocked her head to one side. "Listen to you, barely out of captivity, still in your sick bed and you're already trying to save the world again-" She cut herself short when Shepard pressed her fingers to her temples and began scrubbing furiously. "Shepard?" Miranda asked softly. "Are you alright?"

Shepard suddenly glanced up and met Miranda's stare. She felt feverish. "I-I'm…not what I was, not the soldier I was." She tore her gaze away from Miranda's as she felt the tears return. "M-Miranda…I-I think I did something to someone. I hurt her. I need to tell Liara, but it's the kind of thing you don't simply forgive someone for."

A frown marred Miranda's perfect brow. "Shepard…Evan, whatever you've done, Liara isn't going to care. Not now and not ever."

"No, you don't understand. I-"

Shepard cut herself off abruptly when the door to the room opened. Liara walked in and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that Shepard was awake.

"Liara, hey," Miranda rose smoothly to her feet and very quickly put some distance between herself and the bed. She cast a glance over her shoulder toward Shepard, her gaze conveying a sincere sympathy for a split second before she turned her attention back to Liara. "I'm going to find some food and see how long Mr Macklin can talk to me without staring at my chest. I'll leave you two to…catch up." When Miranda slipped out of the room past Liara, she did not witness the awkward silence she left behind her.

Shepard straightened a little. "Liara, I'm-"

Liara took several steps into the room. "Shepard, I-"

They interrupted each other. Liara ducked her head and winced apologetically. Shepard scrubbed at her temples yet again without realising what she was doing. She stopped only when it felt as though she was rubbing the skin raw. As the silence stretched on, she expected Liara to make some move toward her. However her bondmate remained standing near the door, precisely where she had stopped a few moments earlier. Although it was only a few metres, Shepard felt as though a gulf separated them. She desperately wanted to close it, but her fears lingered just below the surface.

"You were about to say something," Liara eventually offered quietly.

Shepard closed her eyes. That voice. Her lover's voice. When she opened them, Liara was still standing patiently whilst she waited for her to speak. "I wanted to apologise...for earlier. I don't know why I lashed out at you." _You're a liar, Ev. You know exactly why you wanted Liara away from you_. Shepard forced the thoughts out of her mind as she tried to concentrate on the stunning young asari in front of her. "You saved my life, Liara. While there was still a life left to save. How did you find me?"

"I will always find you, Evan," Liara replied, her voice little more than a whisper. She ached for the touch that would give added meaning to her words, but she stubbornly followed Mack's advice and kept her distance.

The longing in Liara's voice was thick to the point of being desperate. Shepard barely even needed eyes to notice it. She could hear Liara's nervous energy in any number of small movements - the tapping of her fingers against her thigh, occasional bouncing on the balls of her feet and the almost panicked breaths. Shepard tentatively touched the space beside her. "Will you sit with me?" she asked nervously.

A relieved sigh escaped Liara's lips accompanied by restrained nod of acceptance. It was difficult to close the distance between them with anything approaching dignity, but somehow she managed to fold herself down onto the bed beside Shepard. Although they were still almost a foot apart, Liara was close enough to feel the reassuring heat radiating off her bondmate's body. Liara continued to follow Mack's advice, content simply to enjoy their proximity. As difficult as it was, she ignored her compulsion to find the answers in one swoop.

Several minutes passed before Liara even turned her head to study Shepard out of the corner of her eye. The surreptitious nature of her action reminded Liara of the many shy glances she had cast in Shepard's direction aboard the SR-1. While that time seemed like an eternity ago, she felt as though she was sitting next to the same unapproachable human who had both terrified and fascinated her.

"You should eat something," Liara suggested.

"I should," Shepard agreed with a thoughtful expression on her face. "I'd like some clothes first. I'm getting a little tired of having my arse hanging out."

"I like your arse hanging out," Liara replied quietly. _Too much?_

Twin spots of colour appeared in Shepard's cheeks. She turned her head and their eyes met. Their gazes burned. "You would."

The tone was light, not quite carefree, but enough to bring a small smile to Liara's face. Something of her Shepard remained in that battered shell. "Clothes…then food," the asari said decisively. However when she moved to slide off the bed, she felt a sudden warmth atop her fingers. She looked down to see Shepard's hand resting lightly atop her own. "Evan?"

"Liara…I don't know what to do," Shepard suddenly admitted. "Even though I didn't always know what I was doing when we fought the Reapers, I was certain in the conviction that they needed to be wiped out, destroyed. But now…the Alliance – I know that there are good people amongst the ranks. How am I supposed to fight against that?"

Liara let out a tremulous breath. Her fingers tightened around her bondmate's as she turned to look at her. If it were possible, she appeared even frailer than she had in the moment that she picked her up off the deck of the Kodiak. Just looking at her, no one would guess that she was _the_ legendary Commander Shepard. "Evan...no one is asking you to."

Shepard just stared at her as if to say 'but it's what I do' and Liara was reminded of exactly who her bondmate was. Even in her present state, she was still Commander Shepard, the Hero of the Citadel, the marine who had sacrificed herself to save the Galaxy. No amount of internal or external scars would be able to change that simple fact. Liara wished to the Goddess that things were different. As she fumbled for something else to say, Shepard simply regarded her with a weary, resolute expression.

"You need time to heal," Liara cautioned her. _We both do_.

"I'll be here on Earth. There are things I can do-"

"You won't be here on Earth," Liara interrupted determinedly. "I have made the necessary arrangements. We are leaving tonight, before such things become impossible for either an escaped prisoner or a nonhuman."

"But-" Shepard was desperately trying to process Liara's announcement. Although she did not hold any particular affinity for Earth itself, the thought of leaving at such a time was difficult to wrap her thoughts around. She momentarily thought of voicing her disagreement, but she knew that stubborn expression all too well. "Where?"

Liara gave her a level stare. "Omega."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "How the hell did you wrangle that?"

"Let us just say that the Queen of Omega owes me a rather large debt," Liara replied calmly.


End file.
